stand at the abyss, you fall to your knees
by a0novel0idea
Summary: Tobias leaves more behind in Abnegation than just his father. When his sister follows in his footsteps, he does what he can to keep her in Dauntless and out of others' hands. Eric/OFC
1. prologue: four lean hounds

It's the morning of my brother's Choosing Day.

Our house is tense, even with the absence of our father. The neighborhood is quiet, and only the drumming of heavy raindrops bouncing against my window breaks the silence. I can hear my brother moving around downstairs, puttering in the kitchen. He's preparing our breakfast, just like he does every other morning; he's always been an earlier riser than me. I slip out from under my grey sheets, and tug them back to order before gathering my grey towel to head off for our grey bathroom. I hate the color grey.

Even with my supply of hot water nearly doubled without my father in the house, my shower is short. I go through the motions to be clean and I shut the water off. The dress I've laid out for myself is Abnegation gray, just like the rest of the clothes in my room, and our house, and our neighbors' houses, and their clothes, and their children's clothes. The one good thing about this dress is, as plain and monotone and repetitive as it is, no one can see the bruises on my arms.

My brother is already sitting at the table, waiting for me, when I step off the bottom stair. Breakfast is laid out, a simple meal of pancakes and toast and milk, though I notice that he's taken the liberty of setting out the jam and butter and not the syrup. He always remembers that I don't like syrup. I take the seat next to him, and he smiles at me, but it's sad and hollow. He has dreaded this day more than I.

"Whatever happens today," he says quietly. "Whatever happens, remember that I love you, Olivia."

"And I love you, Tobias."

I worry what he thinks will happen.

* * *

Tobias and I walk to the Choosing Ceremony. We could have taken the bus, but we finish breakfast early enough to want the extra time to ourselves, even if wanting that goes against everything we've ever been taught. We leave our house, identical to those around it, and walk through the early morning downpour without an umbrella. We pass by two or three of our neighbors, who studiously offer protection under their own brollies, but we decline, and continue on passed the bus stop. Our presences will not be missed if the bus is as crowed as it has been on previous Choosing Days.

The neighborhoods we must walk through to reach the center of the city, and ultimately the Hub, from Abnegation territory are factionless. The buildings are abandoned and broken, slowly giving way to the nature they once held off. We pass several factionless, though none of them bother us; I do not know if it is because they have decided to leave us alone, or because they know whose children we are. I would rather them bother us than claim blood or faction with our father.

When we finally arrive at the Hub, the rain has stopped, though we are still soaking wet. I take the pins out of my hair and let it fall down my back in bright red waves. I don't bother to put it back up as we enter the building. The other Abnegation sixteen year olds have beaten us to the Ceremony room, so there is no reason Tobias and I should not take the elevator. As we ascend to the eighteenth floor, the floor where the Choosing Ceremony takes place, Tobias steps behind me, and threads my hair into a long braid. The hallway between the elevator and the Ceremony room are all but empty, and we step quickly to avoid being late.

The room is arranged in concentric circles, and on the edges stand the sixteen year olds of each faction. They won't be called members until each one of them make their commitment to their faction, or another, and passes initiation. Tobias squeezes my hand and slips into his space in line; I look for our father, and find him in the first row of Abnegation's section, and join him. He greets me with a smile and a 'good morning', but I can't think of a single morning in the last five years that has been good.

It is Candor's turn to lead the Choosing Ceremony, and the hall falls quiet when Jack Kang, Candor's representative, takes the podium on the far side of the audience. He says his dues, the same speech that has been spoken at the Choosing Ceremony for as long as anyone can remember, and begins to call out the alphabetical list of each person taking place in the Ceremony. My brother will come after Daisy Dolmer, a bright eyed, apple cheeked Amity.

One by one, everyone in the crowd watches as each sixteen year old approaches the podium and takes a blade form Kang, cuts into the palm of their hand, and spills blood into one of the five bowls that represent each faction. Gray stones for Abnegation, water for Erudite, earth for Amity, glass for Candor, and lit coals for Dauntless.

Finally it is Tobias's turn. He walks calmly to the podium and accepts the knife from Kang. He doesn't stumble, or hesitate, and I hate him for having this choice. He is as calm as he has ever been in the years following our mother's death, and I have the stray thought that he is the bravest person I have ever known.

I feel my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth when he slides the knife over his palm and dashes his blood over the simmering coals.

Everyone in the crowd starts to murmur, a soft accusing sound that is directed at our father. I feel him beside me like thunder in my bones, loud and soundless all at once. I close my eyes and I feel cold, and abandoned, but I am glad, so glad, that at least one of us can escape.

My brother is Dauntless.


	2. paler be they than daunting death

I walk to school like I have every day for the last year. It's a bright, sunny day, and I couldn't be in a worse mood. Today is the day that all the sixteen year olds from very faction take the aptitude test that will show us which of the five factions we belong in. And tomorrow, at the Choosing Ceremony, we will decide which faction we will ally ourselves with, and the rest of our lives. It is a heavy weight.

When I cross from Abnegation into the factionless part of the city, I am joined by Harold, an old man born and raised factionless. He'd taken a liking to me the day after my brother's Choosing Ceremony, and has walked me to school every day since. I am not afraid of Harold. I can speak my mind, and ask my questions, and be as selfish as I please without the judgment I would receive elsewhere. Harold will listen and offer his opinion, and I do not feel it is a duty to do the same.

"Good morning, Starshine. The earth says hello."

"You twinkle above us, we twinkle below," I greet in return.

It's an odd ritual that we've repeated a thousand times over, and it is comforting. We walk for several blocks in silence, merely enjoying the company of someone who holds no expectations of us, or us of them. We pass the same buildings we do every morning, the same shattered windows, the same crumbling bricks, and if I take a deep breath I can almost pretend that this isn't the day that will lead to the rest of my life.

"Today is the day, hmm?"

"Yes," I say. "Today is the Aptitude Test."

"You'll have to tell me what it's like," he says. "The other ones," he means the factionless who were not born that way, but came to be so in one way or another, "won't talk about it, like it's some big secret."

"It's supposed to be. No one is supposed to know what happens until it does."

"What's the point of test you can't study for?" he says testily, stroking the beard on his face.

"Spoken like a would-be Erudite," I tease.

"That is where I _know_ you do not belong," he says, pointing his finger at me. "No, you are a brave one; you do not belong with the Erudite."

"And where do you say I belong, Harold?" I ask. I am allowed to be curious here. "Surely not in Amity, or Candor."

"No," he says again. "You are a brave one."

* * *

The school is the oldest building in the area, made up of glass and steel; there is a tall metal sculpture in the front that the Dauntless climb like fools after school. I'd tell someone that I thought it was dreadfully ugly, if anyone had bothered to ask before. The building itself isn't that appealing either, but it is what we've been given.

I am one of the first to arrive. Harold and I take a seat on the lip of the small barricade that surrounds the sculpture and I hand him one of the two apples that I brought with me this morning. Acts of selflessness like this, given to people that have proved they are willing to return the favor, I do not mind, but the rest of the world is take, take, take, and they do not give back. These are the thought that make me realize that I couldn't survive a life in Abnegations, even if I wanted to spend the rest of my life in the same boring concrete communities. But I don't.

When I have eaten all the meat off of my apple, I hand the core to Harold and he tucks it into one of his pockets; he will break it into small pieces later and feed it to the birds. When he is done with his he takes my hands and we say our goodbyes. This is not the last I'll see of Harold, but it may be a few weeks yet.

"Goodnight, Starshine. The earth says goodbye."

"We'll wait another day for you to come by."

* * *

My first class of the day is Faction Relations, in which a tart woman from Candor explains to us the roles and relationships each faction plays to the city and to each other. She's a dull person. I take the same seat I have always taken, in the back with a mix of Dauntless and Erudite and away from the other Abnegations of my age. The Dauntless crowding around me, brushing against me and talking over me, and their constant noise makes it easy to ignore the last Faction Relations lecture I will ever receive.

By the time my first three classes are over and it is time for lunch, I'm no longer hungry. My stomach has become a knot of nerves, pulling tighter every time I think of what could possibly be coming. It can't be anything too serious, I tell myself, no one has ever died from the Aptitude Test. After lunch is no longer being eaten, we stay in our seats. It only takes the volunteer test administrators moments to begin calling names, ten at a time, one for each testing room.

I sit alone and concentrate on my hands. The first group is called, then the second, then it's my turn. I follow the others in my group into the back hallway where other administrators stand by open doorways. Most of the volunteers are from Abnegation, though there are two Dauntless women as well. Other factions are required to send a volunteer as the rules state that one cannot be tested by someone else in their faction. One of the Dauntless must test me.

The first Dauntless to catch my eye is older than I am, maybe in her mid-thirties, with short blond hair and brown eyes. She beckons me into her room and closes the door. She's dressed all in black, and she has tattoos that curls down both of her arms. Several rings hang from each ear, and a single silver bar adorns her eyebrow.

Mirrors cover the inner walls of the room. I've never seen myself so clearly before, though I notice that my dress does a rather good job of covering the bruises on my neck, back, and arms. The ceiling is a solid block of lighting, and in the center of the room is a reclining chair, like a dentist's. There is a machine set up next to it that does not look friendly.

"It doesn't hurt," the woman says, and it sounds like a line she practices in the morning until it's just right. "My name is Cate. Go ahead and make yourself comfortable."

I slide into the chair and cross my ankles.

"Drink this," Cate says, handing me a vial. As I inspect the contents, she attaches an electrode to my forehead, and another to her own.

"What is it?"

"That would be telling," she smiles. "Drink up."

I don't remember what happens next.

* * *

When I come to I have a pounding headache and I'm contemplating making a break for the bathroom, or at least a trashcan. There are no lights above me, and no mirrors around me, so I am no longer in the testing room. When I can convince myself to roll onto one side, I see I am surrounded by a white curtain, and I figure I must by in the school's infirmary. Another wave of nausea passes over me and a lean over the bed and vomit; it isn't until I'm done that I realize someone already had the thought to place a trashcan at by bedside. The noise brings the nurse around, a calm Abnegation woman who is the spitting image of what our faction is supposed to be, and she lays a cold cloth over my head.

"Don't worry about it, dear. Every few years we have one or two who are allergic to the test. The sickness will pass. You get some sleep, and I'll send word to your father."

I want to protest, but I can't make the words leave my mouth.

"And your administrator left you this," she motions to a sealed envelope on the table next to my bed.

"She said it's your results."

* * *

My father never comes.

It's a small relief not to have to deal with him on top of the lingering ache in my head and roll of my stomach. He does send another man, also Abnegation, to drive me home. I can't decide whose idea it was, but I doubt it was this man's, though he's never anything other than polite to me. The ride is smooth out of the city, until we reach Abnegation, where the good road runs out. The man drops me at my house, and I trudge up the stairs to my room without any dinner.

* * *

My alarm clock rings before I am ready for it to. Its five o'clock in the morning, far earlier than I have ever wished to rise. The sky is still asleep on the other side of my window, but I push back my sheets and blankets and slip from my bed. The floor is cold beneath my bare feet, and I trudge to the bathroom that is mine alone now. The tile is grey, the shower curtain is grey, the bath mat is grey, even the bags under my eyes are grey in the small mirror I've squirreled away and hidden from my father.

I shower for twice as long as normal, taking small pleasure in using hot water that would be my father's if he wasn't, once again, absent. Once I've used our allotted amounts, I cut the spray and wrap myself in a grey towel. The walk back to my room is colder than the walk away. I stand in my bedroom and stare into my closet for longer than is necessary considering I only own one color and two variations of the same dress. I've never told anybody, but I have a pair of my brother's pants and a black shirt I traded a Dauntless boy at school for buried in the bottom of my dresser.

I pick out my highest necked dress, and, as a second thought, dig the pants and shirt out of my dresser. They feel awkward under my dress, and I have to roll up the edges of the pants, but no one will notice them under the bulky, unfitted figure of my dress. My shoes are the same shoes I've worn for the last several months, flat and grey, just like the rest of Abnegation.

My house is dark and empty downstairs; my father has taken to staying at the Hub, in the center of the city, on as many nights as he can. The result has been a blessed quiet, and on his nights away this house, for all its monotone and dullness, becomes the sanctuary I never thought it would be. I am calmer when he is away, more focused, less bruised. I make myself a minimal breakfast, a bowl of bland grain cereal with milk and a glass of water, and, out of spite, I leave the dirty dishes in the sink.

Before I leave, I walk back up the steps to see my room one last time. I won't miss it. The plain walls, the dead air that resides in the whole house, this place has not been a home for me in a long, long time. I take the only book in my room from the shelf above my desk and tuck it into the waistband of my brother's pants. It's old, and barely one hundred pages, but it is the only thing I wish to take with me from my old life.

Today is my Choosing Day.

* * *

I walk from Abnegation to the Hub, escorted only by Harold and his customary greeting. We walk, and we walk, and we say our farewells.

"Be brave, Starshine."

"Watch out for yourself, Old Earth."

They are not 'goodbyes', only 'see you later's.

* * *

The Ceremony room is already crowded when I take my place in the line of other soon-to-be initiates. I stand between two girls from Amity. The talk around me, ignoring me, and I am somewhat grateful; I could not manage a conversation now. Parents and their children continue to flood into the room, wishing luck before separating, the children to the line, the parents to their seats.

_That's all we are_, I realize, _We're just children_.

It is Erudite's turn to host the Ceremony, and the hall quiets when Jeanine Matthews, their representative, takes her position at the podium. She's a tall woman, blonde and commanding and upright, and she smiles at the crowd like she means it.

"Welcome to the Choosing Ceremony," she says. "Welcome to the day we honor the democratic philosophy of our ancestors, which tells us that every man has the right to choose his own way in this world."

She pauses and looks around.

"Our dependents are now sixteen. And they stand of the precipice of adulthood, and it is now up to them to decide what kind of people they will be. Decades ago our ancestors realized that it is not political ideology, religious belief, race, or nationalism that is to blame for a warring world. Rather, they determined that it is the fault of human personality – of humankind's inclinations towards evil, in whatever form that is. They divided into factions that sought to eradicate those qualities they believed responsible for the world's disarray."

I roll my eyes; this is still the exact same speech given at every Ceremony.

"Those who blamed aggression formed Amity."

The two girls on either side of me high-five over my head and earn disapproving stares from the rest of Erudite.

"Those who blamed ignorance became the Erudite. Those who blamed duplicity created Candor. Those who blamed selfishness made Abnegation. And those who blamed cowardice were the Dauntless."

I realize my fingers have gone numb from the tight grip I have on my dress.

"Working together, these five faction have worked together for many years, each contributing to a different sector of society. Abnegation has fulfilled our need for selfless leaders in government; Candor has provided us with trustworthy and sound leaders in law; Erudite has supplied us with intelligent teachers and researchers; Amity has given us understanding councilors and caretakers; AND Dauntless provides us with protection from threats both within and without. But the reach of each faction is not limited to these areas. We give one another far more than can be adequately summarized. In our factions, we find meaning, we find purpose, we find life."

_What about Harold_, my mind whispers, _where is he supposed to find meaning and purpose?_

"Therefor, this day marks a happy occasion – the day on which we receive our new initiates, who will work with us toward a better society and a better world!"

There's a round of applause, just like there always is, and Jeanine calls the first name. One, two, five, eight other sixteen year olds go before me. And then it is my turn. I step down on from the edge we are lined up on. I have not seen my father, though I do not doubt he in the crowd of other Abnegation parents. I refuse to look at him. My walk is steady as I make my way towards the podium. I do not trip or stumble. My hands shake when Jeanine hands me a new blade.

_This is it_, I think, _this is the rest of my life_.

I stare at the blade as it rest in my palm, and I have the stray thought that no one else has taken this long before. I close my fingers over the edge and cut into my skin. It tingles, stings. Blood begins to pool in my hand, and over the quiet of the rest of the room, I hear my father whisper my name. When I raise my head, my eyes meet his, and my blood sizzles over the lit coals of the Dauntless bowl.

I am not his daughter anymore. I am Dauntless now.

* * *

The Dauntless, both members and initiates, herd each other out of the Ceremony hall. They turn toward the stairs, and it seems like we fly down each flight, jumping and running and falling. We're the first faction in the lobby and the first out the door. As soon as the leaders of the pack push the glass doors open the Dauntless begin to cheer. Whooping and yelling and celebrating like we were never allowed to in Abnegation. They start to run, faster and faster until the lines between people are blurred and I'm left with nothing other than the sense of moving forward.

I hear the train horn as we near the tracks and I know what we've got to do. The Dauntless travel by train, though they do so by jumping into and out of open cars. This is the first step to our initiation; if we can't jump a train we're useless. The Dauntless tether us out in a single line along the steel tracks. I'm breathless, my heart is beating too fast, and I'm not at all prepared for what is to come.

I'm the first of the faction transfers to start running, but soon enough the rest of them catch on. Each of the car doors are open and before I let myself think twice about it, I reach up and grab onto handle, hoisting myself up. I am the first initiate on the train. I turn around to see another initiate, a Dauntless born, lose her grip on the same handle I grasped, and I reach out to take her hand and haul her into the car.

"Thanks," she says strangely. She moves away from me to join the other Dauntless born.

No one else has trouble jumping the train.

I lean out of the car and watch the Hub shrink into the distance. It's such a small task that we undertake for such a big change. I've left Abnegation for good; even if I decide that Dauntless is not what I want to be, I can become factionless and leave this madness behind. As a second thought I begin to pull my dress up, and one of the Dauntless born boys whistles at me. I pull off the last piece of gray clothing I will ever wear and hold it in my hands. When I let it go, it whips through the sky like an angry bird and then it's out of sight.

I am not Abnegation anymore.

I am Dauntless.


	3. despite what fear denies, what hope

It takes longer than I expected to reach Dauntless headquarters, a solid half hour, at the least. My knees are starting to cramp by the time the Dauntless born begin to stir, but I stand with them, taking my ques. One by one the other transfers stand, figuring that something has to be coming. I lean out of the train car door, not very far, but I am able to see little figures hurling themselves from the train onto a rooftop. It doesn't look very safe, and the thought of falling has the potential to make me sick to my stomach, but I don't let it. This is what I left Abnegation for: freedom.

"Are we jumping?" a Candor boy asks over the wind.

No one answers him.

The Dauntless born line up on the edge of the car, and I am right behind them. The first three jump, ducking and rolling onto the rooftop, and I am quick to follow. My fall is easy, and my landing is breathtaking. My weight jars my ankles and elbows, and the gravel on the roof breaks the skin of my hands, but as a whole I am able to stand up again. The Dauntless girl that I helped onto the train is watching me. There's a strangled cry from behind me, and we all turn just in time to see the Candor boy who asked if we were jumping grab onto a small Amity girl as she loses her footing. The transfers release a collective sigh as she regains it.

A loud whistle catches out attention and we all look to the man standing on a ledge in the center of the roof. He's older than the other Dauntless I've seen, and he has hair graying around his temples. He walks across the ledge like it's as wide as he is tall, like there's no danger at all of him, or anyone else, falling and breaking their necks.

"Listen up! My name is Max and I'm one of the leaders of your new faction," he announces to us. "Several stories below us is the member's entrance to our compound. If you can't muster the will to jump off, you don't belong here. Our initiates have the privilege of going first."

"You want us to do what?" an Erudite transfer asks.

"I want you to jump off a ledge," he says, amused.

"What's at the bottom?" the small Amity girl who almost fell asks.

"Can't really say. Could be anything."

I can tell he's more amused by our hesitation than we are. I take a deep breath.

_This is what I left Abnegation for_, I tell myself as I push through the other transfers.

Max steps aside as I step onto the ledge and look down. There are three other buildings that join with the one I'm standing on to form a square, and I can't see what's at the bottom. It has to be safe, otherwise every initiate would be jumping to their deaths, but that does not help my nerves. I take a deep breath, and turn to face the others. They're watching me, but I can't watch them. I close my eyes and I let myself fall.

I hear screams echoing through my ears as I fall, but I know it's not me; my teeth are locked together. My heart is pounding and I can feel my blood speeding through my veins, and I land on something tough. I bounce a few times, and when I stop whatever has me cradles my body. Air rushes back into my lungs and I force a deep breath as I open my eyes. I'm lying in a giant net. A giant flipping net. A laugh bubbles up from my chest and by the time I realize what it is I can't stop it. I laugh, deep-bellied and unrestricted, from joy, and relief, and, I think, from sadness.

A hand is thrust under my nose and I grab it without searching for the face it belongs to. They pull me back onto solid ground and a woman asks my name.

"Olivia," I tell her, and I realize it's Cate, my Aptitude Test administrator.

Her grin is predatory when she says, "Make the call, Four."

"First jumper," a familiar voice calls to the other Dauntless, shoved and piled into the spaces between the walls and hand railings, "Olivia!"

They cheer.

My brother doesn't.

* * *

The others jump, one by one by one, except for the Erudite girl who asked what was at the bottom of the hole. She stays, and she isn't anything anymore. First the transfers, then the Dauntless born, until we're all standing on our feet again. I watch my brother. He looks like the same Tobias that left me a year ago, but he doesn't feel like it. He's somber, quiet, but so clearly Dauntless. When he turns I can see the edge of a tattoo peak out over the collar of his shirt. He looks good.

The Dauntless begin to leave now that the spectacle is over. The others around me chatter and laugh and congratulate each other. I'm silent. Cate and my brother, Four now I guess, converse quietly for a moment before beckoning to our group. They lead us away from the jumping net, and down a lit tunnel. After a few minutes we stop.

"This is where we'll divide," Cate says. "Dauntless born with me. I assume you guys don't need a tour of the place. But for all of those who don't know, my name is Cate."

Our groups separate but the Dauntless born don't move away yet. Separated, I can see how few we transfers number; there are only six of us.

"Most of the time," my brother says. "I work in the control room, but for the next few weeks, I am the transfers' instructor. My name is Four."

Before anyone can question the name that is also a number, all the anger and abandonment and confusion I've felt over the last year rises up and I can't help but stride forward and throw my fist into his face. He stumbles backwards, and catches himself on the wall.

"What the _fuck_," one of the Dauntless born whispers behind me.

What the fuck, indeed.

* * *

Cate leaves the rest of the initiates with my brother, and escorts me to the women's bathroom. I splash my face with cold water on my face and examine the flesh on my knuckles. It's red, irritated, but hitting him didn't hurt as much as I thought it would. I look at myself in the mirror above the sink. Cloudy grey eyes and outrageously bright red hair shine back. I dry my hands off on my pants and start to pluck the pins out of my hair. When I've gotten them all, thirty-eight at the end, my hair falls in uncontrolled waves to the small of my back. As a Dauntless, I'm allowed to think it's pretty.

"So," Cate says from behind me. "You going to tell me why you punched your training instructor in the face?"

"Didn't punch my instructor," I say lowly. "I punched my brother."

"You want to run that by me again, transfer?" she says, pushing away from where she's leaned against the door and walking in my direction.

"I punched my brother," I say strongly. "It didn't have anything to do with him being my instructor."

"Huh. Do all Abnegation punch their siblings in the face upon greeting?"

"We're special," I grumble, and she laughs.

"So what now?" I ask, turning away from the sink.

"I have to take you to one of our faction leaders," Cate says regretfully. "Honestly, this has never happened before, so I'm unaware of the steps to take. Four and I are your supervisors until you pass initiation, but I don't know what I'm supposed to do with you."

"Fantastic."

"Did you split the skin on your hand?"

"No," I say, showing her my knuckles. "Didn't hurt like I've been told it would either."

"How many fights have you been in?" Cate asks.

I raise my eyebrow; I've never laid hand on a person until today. She gathers this from my look.

"Hmm. If you left a bruise, I owe you a drink. That's a pretty nice hook you've got for never hitting anyone before."

"Am I supposed to take that as a compliment?" I ask.

"Damn right you are, initiate."

Cate takes me to the Pit. It's aptly

* * *

named as it is a pit in the ground. It's farther across than I can see and is topped by thick panes of glass. Rough rock walls, several sorties tall, surround each side, and shops for food, clothing, supplies, and leisure activities are nestled in hollowed out caverns all over; each of the shops are connected by rough, steep stairways that sport no railings.

The Dauntless are everywhere, loud and expressive and lively. A gaggle of children race up and down steep steps, practically falling over themselves. Blue lanterns hang in intervals along the walls, and their glow shines brighter as the sun sets. It's a wonderful chaos. Cate leads me away from it all through a dark tunnel. When we spill out we're in a dining hall full of even more people.

A woman near the entrance sees me and bumps her friend on the arm, and it's like tipping a domino. Someone starts to clap and then another and another until the whole room is chanting some kind of praise; even the Dauntless born initiates take place.

"Shut it off, morons!" Cate yells over them. I'm suitably impressed by the volume of her voice.

She leads me from the entrance, and things settle back down, but some of them don't stop watching me.

"Why did they do that?" I ask.

"You were the first jumper," she tells me. "And you punched Four in the face. And you're from Abnegation. Roll those things into one package, and you get them interested."

Max, the Dauntless leader who told us to jump from the roof, is who Cate approaches. He's sitting at a table with two other Dauntless, a man maybe older than me with a few facial piercings and tattoos up his neck, and a woman, hair cut short and lines tattooed across her face.

"Could we have a word, Max?" Cate asks, and leads us both away from the crowd and into a secluded little cubby. "I know how gossip travels around here, so I'd like to officially introduce you to Olivia."

I nod at him, he nods at me.

"I don't know what to do with her."

"What do you want to do with her?" he asks, and it sounds more salacious than Cate intended, but she merely rolls her eyes.

"She punched her instructor in the face," Cate says impatiently. "I don't know what punishment that demands."

Max sighs, places his hands on his hips, "Why did you punch your instructor in the face?"

"Tell him what you told me," Cate suggests.

"I wasn't punching my instructor," I tell the larger man. "I was punching my brother."

"Four is your brother." He doesn't state it like a question.

"He transferred last year from Abnegation," I say defiantly. "Left me alone. It was high time I paid him back for it."

"Christ," he says, wiping imaginary dust from his eye, "How the fuck does Abnegation keep spitting out Dauntless?"

"Beats me," Cate says.

"Set her up with community service. A couple extra hours after training every day for a week. I think the nursery needs some help."

"Can do, skipper," Cate says as Max turns back to his table. When he's out of hearing range, she turns to me and says, "You are a lucky duck. He's usually not so light with the initiates, especially the transfers. C'mon, let's get something to eat."

"What? That's it?"

"Do you want there to be more? No, don't answer that."

She leads me to the food line, where she hands me a tray and proceeds to pile it with things I will not, and cannot, eat. When she turns her back to lead us to the table of initiates, I manage to swipe another bowl of banana pudding. The Dauntless born greet me like old friends, and the transfers shy away from me. So much for supporting each other. Cate takes a seat with the Dauntless born. I sit across from my brother.

"You two aren't going to fight again, are you?" Cate calls from her table. "Last time, Olivia kicked your ass, Four."

She says it like it's been weeks, and was an actual fight, not thirty minutes and barely a scuffle. When I look my brother in the face, I can see that there's already a light bruise forming on his cheek and the edge of his mouth. Cate owes me a drink.

"Olivia," he says. "What are you doing here?"

"Dauntless was my test result," I say honestly. "And I wasn't spending another day in that house if I had to leave society altogether and forage on my own beyond the fence."

"I'm sorry," he says quietly.

"Don't be. If you'd stuck around for me, you never would have been able to leave. I punched you; revenge taken. It's over and done and I don't want to speak another word of it."

"Are you sure you weren't meant for Candor?"

"Bite me, Tobias."

* * *

After dinner, Cate hands be back over to by brother, who immediately hands the transfers over to the man I saw sitting with Max, and disappears. The new man introduces himself as Eric, once of Dauntless's five leaders, and tells us he'll be overseeing most of our training. He leads us down several tunnels, all lit with blue lanterns at the ends and dark in between.

"There are a few rules: you have to be in the training room every morning by eight o'clock. Training is from eight to six with a break for lunch; after six you can do whatever you want. You'll also get some time off between each stage of initiation. You are not allowed to leave the complex unless accompanied by a Dauntless. This," he opens the door that's materialized behind him, "is where you'll be sleeping for the next few weeks. You'll notice there are ten beds and only six of you; we anticipated a greater number would make it this far.

For the first step through initiation, we keep the Dauntless born and transfers separate, but that doesn't mean you'll be evaluated separately. After the first stage, you'll be ranked together – "

"Ranked for what?" asks a Candor boy.

The answering smile on Eric's face isn't pleasant.

"You're rankings serve two purposes; the first is job selection. There are only a few jobs that don't leave you wishing you were factionless. The second purpose is that only the top ten initiates are made members."

I feel like I'm the one who's been punched in the face. There're nineteen of us, transfer and Dauntless born alike. That's nine people who become factionless; nine people who are out on their ends with nowhere to go and no direction in life.

"Four of you will be cut after the stage one. The rest will be cut at the end of initiation."

No one protests.

Maybe I won't be Dauntless.

* * *

I choose the bunk farthest from the door. No one picks the one next to me, but the small Amity girl takes the bed across from mine. The lights are off and I spend my time lying in bed, counting the minutes go by until I can't stay still anymore. I slip out of bed and put my brother's pants back on, but I leave my shoes. The floor is cold as I slip out of our room, and if anyone is awake, they don't stop me.

The tunnels are still dark, but they're deserted this deep into the compound. I head back the way Eric brought us, and I'm quite surprised that I end up where I was expecting to; my sense of direction has never been great. The Pit is quieter than it was earlier, but not empty. There aren't any children climbing the stairs, but small groups of adults occupy random spaces along the floor and in the odd shop. I hear someone laugh loudly, and it sounds like Cate, so I move away from the Dauntless; no one told us we couldn't wander around, but that doesn't mean they'll like it.

I turn off into a tunnel that I haven't been in before, and after just a few steps I can hear loud crashing, like swiftly moving water hurling itself over an edge. When I round a final corner, I find out that that's exactly what it is. A thin walkway spans an underground river that moves through the complex. I walk out to the middle and lean against the railing until it sways, then back off. I can't hear anything over the rush of water, not the instructions given to the transfers, not the other Dauntless in the compound, not the thoughts in my head.

"What are you doing out here?"

I stumble when someone shouts in my ear and, for a terrifying second, I lose my footing.


	4. cross the threshold have no dread

My feet slide out from under me and I have the barest moment to think this is it; I'm going to fall over the edge into the river and die on my first night as a Dauntless initiate. I'm still completing those thoughts when my brain realizes that I'm back on my own two feet and supported by a larger-framed figure than I am. I'm gripping their wrist pretty tightly, and when I look up, it's Eric. He isn't breathing heavily like I am, and he doesn't look panicked like I feel, but he lets me take my time pulling away.

"Sorry," I tell him as I pull away.

"Get off the walkway," he says, pointing in the direction I came from.

I turn to go and he follows me. I don't stop and he doesn't say anything until we're away from the river and back in the Pit.

"What were you doing out there?"

"Thinking," I say.

"Thinking about what?" he asks. "Throwing yourself off?"

I stop and turn to look at him.

"Is that what people normally do when they go out there?"

"Yes," he says honestly. "A few people throw themselves over every year."

"Why?"

"Not my business. But you, you throw yourself over, that's on my head."

"I appreciate your concern," I cay dryly. I don't ever think I was this sarcastic in Abnegation.

"Tell me now if that's what you were going to do, so I can assign someone to watch you; if you die, it'll be in training, just like any of the other initiates."

"I wasn't going to jump," I say. "I was just thinking, clearing my head."

"Clear it somewhere else next time."

"Understood."

I walk back to the room I share with the rest of the transfers. It's still dark, and everyone is still asleep. Everyone but me.

* * *

I'm still awake when Cate opens our door and flips the light on. A few of the others grumble, but no one becomes overly concerned until Cate starts yelling.

"Get up! Up! Move it! This is the one and only wakeup call you'll get! Get out of bed!"

I slide off of the bed and into my shoes. I'm the first one out the door, and the first one to the bathroom. I brush my teeth with the supplies they've given us, and I rake my fingers through my waves. I look tired. I clean up my things as the small Amity girl and an Erudite walk in; I'm still in the habit of not letting others observe me observing myself. Cate is still in our room waiting on us all.

"Heard you're suicidal," she says in greeting.

"Eric can kiss his own ass," I say snidely as I search for my hair tie lost in the confines of my bed sheets.

"Yeah, I thought he was blowing smoke."

"He snuck up on me," I say as I pull my hair into a long braid, "and I nearly slipped under the railing because of it. If I was dead it'd be his fault."

"Oh, goodie," she says. "Our first pigtail pulling."

"What's a pigtail pulling?"

"Don't worry about it, transfer. Not until you make it through initiation."

* * *

"The first thing you will learn today," my brother tells us, "is how to shoot a gun. Then you'll learn how to win a fight. Since you're already here, I guess I don't need to teach you how to get on and off a moving train."

He walks by the six of us and presses a small gun into each of our hands. It's cold and heavy in my hand, heavier than I had thought it would be. After my brother left, and I made the decision to follow him no matter what my Aptitude Test said, I'd read about firearms as much as I could without making anyone suspicious. In theory, I can load it, shoot, take it apart, and clean it. In theory. With the actual object in my hand, I'm not so sure.

"Initiation is divided into three stages: physical, emotional, and mental. Each stage is not weighed equally, so it is extremely difficult, but possible to increase your ranking should you not do well in the first stage. Dauntless believes that preparation eradicates cowardice, which we define as the inability to act in the face of fear, so each stage is designed to prepare you in a different way.

"This is information you may need later on, so pay attention."

He turns his back on us and faces his target, a plank of wood with three red circles painted on it. He stands with his feet apart and his shoulders squared, and when he pulls the trigger, the sound is louder than I thought it would be. The Erudite girl beside me flinches. When my eyes focus on my brother's target, there's a hole in the center ring.

We line up along our own targets, and it's the small Amity girl that fires first. The force of the shot knocks her back a bit, but she doesn't fall. I guess I'll have to brace myself more than I thought. I spread my feet, raise my gun, and set my shoulders. Someone else shoots. I aim, breathe, relax, breathe, squeeze. I feel the impact in my bones, shivering down to my toes. The reaction makes my palms itch.

"How did you do that?"

I look over to the small Amity girl, who's staring at my target over my shoulder. There's a hole in the center ring.

Huh.

* * *

By the time our lunch break rolls around, my arms and shoulders ache, but in a pleasant, fulfilled way. I gather my tray, and load it with more banana pudding and add a few other fruits. I planned on sitting with my brother again, but when my eyes scan the crowd, he's disappeared again. The small Amity girl, Azalea but call me Az, tells me to sit with her and the Candor boy, Harper, she's made friends with. Apparently the wariness of the previous day has worn off. When we sit down the first thing I eat is the banana pudding. Harper watches me curiously.

"Don't you want anything else to eat?"

I look down at my tray.

"Like what?" I ask.

"Like some meat, or, you know, bread, or anything that isn't fruit."

"I'm allergic to bread," I tell him.

"Seriously?" Az asks.

"Yeah. When I was little it wasn't even allowed in the house."

"That's kind of a strange allergy," Harper says.

I shrug and eat my pudding.

"What about meat? Az asks. "You could have a hamburger without the bun."

"I don't like the taste of meat."

"Is there anything you can eat?"

"Fruit," I say, motioning to my tray. "Vegetables."

"You poor, poor girl," Harper says. "I'm going to eat another hamburger, just for you."

"My stomach appreciates the consideration," I say dryly.

* * *

After lunch, Four brings us to a new room. It's just as big as the firing range, but with creaky, cracked wooden floors and dimmer lights. There is a chalkboard hanging on one wall and all of the initiates' names are written in alphabetical order in a sloppy hand. Several punching bags line the opposite wall.

"This morning you learned how to fire a gun," Four says. "Some better than others. But this afternoon you're going to learn how to fight. Today we'll go over the basics, and tomorrow you'll face your first opponents. This is to prepare you for whatever threat or challenge could come your way, and you'll need to be ready if you plan to survive initiation, and life as a Dauntless."

He demonstrates several punches and kicks, then lets us loose on the punching bags. I'm less comfortable punching something than I am shooting something, which is strange, I think. The others catch on quickly, but every time my fist hits the bag, it feels awkward, like my body is protesting the action. My brother wanders through us, adjusting and giving advice, and when he gets to me he rolls his eyes.

He pushes my shoulder back, and turns my feet farther inward, then advises me to hit the bag like I got a second chance at hitting him. It goes surprisingly well; I can tell by the grimace on my brother's face.

"Look at it this way," I say lowly. "At least I hit you before I got any kind of training."

"Your common sense frightens me."

"Good."

* * *

When we are dismissed from the training room, Cate is waiting outside for me. I'd forgotten about my punishment for punching Tobias in the face. She pulls me away from the other transfers and tucks my arm in hers, like we're sisters, and leads me toward the Pit.

"First, we're going to get you some new clothes," she says. "Then I'm going to dump you in your punishment."

"Why do I need new clothes?" I don't really need an answer; I'm still wearing the clothes from my Choosing Ceremony.

"Smartass," Cate comments, and leads me up a steep stairway carved into one of the rocky walls.

The shop she leads me to is full of clothing is all different styles, enough that the thought of trying to choose between them makes my head spin. Among all the black, which is the signature of the Dauntless faction, is a mix of dark reds, and blues, and greys. When I ask Cate why, she says to me,

"Everyone likes a bit of variation. Try this on."

She hands me a simple black tank top and pants. I slip behind the curtain she herds me to and change clothes. The change feels nice, even if I don't feel quite like myself. Out of habit, I neatly fold my Abnegation clothes. When I emerge from behind the curtain, Cate nods at me, like I've passed an inspection, and hands me a pair of black boots. I hand them back.

"You don't like them?"

"My feet are not that small."

"I can fix that. Dawn!"

"Yeah?" a sleepy voice asks.

A blonde woman appears out of the clothing stacks covering her yawn with her hand. She looks at me and smiles.

"Well aren't you pretty. Amity?"

"Abnegation," I reply.

"Oh, you must be Olivia. Heard you popped Four good."

"Thanks?"

"Dawn, do you have these in a bigger size?" Cate asks. "Princess here has feet the size of train cars."

I stick my tongue out at Cate when Dawn turns away to look. She doesn't have another pair, but she does have something she thinks I may like. They're still black leather boots, but instead of short and clunky, they're tall and slim and lace up to my knees.

"Why can't we get stuff like this in normal people sizes?" Cate asks indignantly.

"Because they only make your size with the additional ego pocket," Dawn says, and Cate says a few words I've never thought of repeating before.

"Alright, you got new clothes, let's go. Punishment awaits."

"Cate, how do I …"

"Relax," she says. "Every Dauntless is given an allowance of points each month to spend on things like clothes, and supplies, and leisure activities. The clothes'll cost you a couple points, but as long as you're not buying a new dress every day, you'll be fine."

"I don't like dresses," I say.

"Good. One less thing for you to spend your points on."

* * *

The nursery, it turns out, is not for plants, like I thought. It consists of three rooms, and the children are separated by age group. One woman is trying to watch two of the rooms at once, constantly walking back and forth between each of them. She looks harried.

"Greetings, Fanny!" Cate says. "I've brought you a slave!"

I'd feel indignant about the reference, but Cate has yet to be mean, so I figure it's meant to be a joke.

"Oh, thank the lord," the woman says. "Cassandra has a stomach virus, and even if she could stop throwing up, she can't bring it around the children. Who's this? Never mind, I know who this is. Hello, my name is Fanny."

"I'm Olivia."

"Are you better with toddlers, or infants?"

"Uh…"

"Infants it is. They're really simple. Cate watch the toddlers while I show Olivia where everything is."

Cate takes her orders, and Fanny leads me to the other room. It's painted blue and has four cribs and a rocking chair in the corner. There's a small icebox and supply cabinet on one wall.

"We only have one infant right now," Fanny says, beckoning to the one crib with visible movement inside. "Her name is Adele, and she's upset by loud noises, which is why I can't keep her in the room with the toddlers; she starts to cry when they make too much noise. She's been fed in the last hour, but she really needs some human contact right now. Think you can handle that?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Don't call me ma'am. The toddler room is right next door and I'll be able to hear you yell if something's wrong."

"That's comforting," I say stiffly.

"Good luck."

* * *

When it's just me and Adele, I creep over to her crib and peak over to see if she's awake; she is. She babbles at me and waves her arms. She's chubby, like my neighbor's youngest baby used to be, and she has bright red hair just like me, though her eyes are brown. She's wearing a diaper and a tiny black shirt with the Dauntless emblem on it, a flame wrapped in a circle. I smile at her and introduce myself, just like I used to do with any infant I met in Abnegation. She babbles more and claps her hands. I scoop her up by her armpits and settle her on my hip, and she squeals.

"You are such a pretty little girl," I coo. "And if your parents are anything like the Dauntless I've met, you're going to grow up to be beautiful, and strong, and smart, just like them."

I talk to Adele for a long time before she settles onto my shoulder and falls asleep. I sit in the rocking chair and rock us both, keeping her weight on my chest and off my aching arms. Time passes quicker than I imagined it would, and I'm talking to her again, softly and smoothly, when someone gently knocks on the door. I expect it to be Cate, come to tell me I can return to the room I share with the others, but it's not.

"So this is where they stuck you, huh?" Eric asks.

"It is."

"Cate asked me to tell you that you're time's up."

"Why didn't she come?"

"She's sloshed," he says bluntly. "And drunks aren't allowed up and down the stairs. Too many fall off and die."

"Sounds like the chasm," I say coldly.

He rolls his eyes.

"What am I supposed to do with her?" I ask him by default of there being no one else.

"That Adele?"

I nod.

"Her mother gets off the fence in an hour. She'll sleep in her crib until then."

I stand up from the rocking chair, and Adele shifts when I so, so I pause. She settles and I place her gently on her back in her crib. It's warm enough in the room that I don't think she'll need a blanket, but I stand over her for a few minutes anyway. I think I like kids. Eric is still standing in the doorway, and I have to push by him in order to leave.

"Do you need something?" I ask.

"No."

I turn away and open the door to the toddler room in order to tell Fanny that my time is up, and ask if she need anything else.

"Your Abnegation is showing," she teases. "But no, thank you. I'll see you tomorrow."

When I turn out of the toddler room, Eric is still standing in the doorway of the infant's room. I pass him and head back down into the Pit, intent on food. I didn't have the chance to eat before Cate swept me up for my punishment, and I'm starving. There isn't any banana pudding left when I get there, so I take my choice of apples and a bunch of grapes. I sit by myself , munching on grapes and thinking of how sore my arms are going to be in the morning, and what I'd have to do to take a shower before everyone else. I guess having years of experience as an earlier riser will finally pay off.


	5. how do you like your blue eyed boy

I'm in the shower before anyone else is awake the next morning. The spray is timed, so I wash and rinse quickly and then spend the next few minutes just standing under the hot water. I stretch my arms and back, hoping the heat will relax some of the muscles that are still protesting yesterday's activities, but when I'm standing in nothing but my towel it doesn't seem to have helped much. I slip back into my clothes, and re-braid my hair. I'm tying the laces on my boots when Az wanders in with Harper not far behind.

"How long have you been up?" she yawns.

"Half an hour," I tell her.

"Ugh," she grunts. "Morning people."

Harper gives me a bleary eyed look and moves into a shower stall.

* * *

The cafeteria is surprisingly lively when I get there. I get in line, hoping to find something that I can eat, and end up with a plate of eggs, grapes, and a container of milk. It'll have to do. I take a seat by myself, playing with my eggs and grapes. Cate slumps into the seat across from me, looking weary and hungover.

"Heard you got drunk," I say in greeting.

"Who told you that?" she asks, never mind that I can still practically smell the alcohol on her.

"Eric," I say. "When he came to tell me when my time in the nursery was up."

"Why'd he do that?" she asks, swiping a bite of eggs off of my plate.

"Because you asked him too," I say. "He said you were too drunk to take the stairs."

"I was not," she says indignantly. "I don't even remember Eric being there."

"If you don't remember who was or wasn't with you last night, how can you say you were sober enough to take the stairs?"

"I made it to my room just fine," she says.

"That's not what that scrape on your face says."

She slaps a hand over the barely there mark on her face.

"I don't like you," she says, narrowing her eyes.

I push my plate of eggs towards her and offer my fork.

"I love you," she sighs.

* * *

I'm the only transfer that has time for breakfast. Everyone else is blank eyed and sluggish when we arrive in the firing range. Four has placed a gun at each target station, and I choose one, check for ammunition, and slide the clip back in place. Az takes the place besides me and asks me to show her how to do that. I show her how to release the magazine and how to check to see if the chamber is loaded or not.

"How do you know all of this?"

"I've known I was Dauntless for a while. I studied."

"I didn't think this was for me until my Aptitude Test."

I don't have a reply, so she retreats back to her station, and I raise my gun to the target. I fire three shots in rapid succession, as rapid as I can with my hands still sore, and the holes in the target all place within the center ring. I'm pleased.

* * *

When I step into the training room, each of our names has been paired with another on the chalkboard. I'd forgotten that we'd be fighting today. I've been paired with Paisley, the only other Amity transfer besides Az. She's shorter than I am, but heavier, and that may weigh in her advantage. Az has been paired with Sarah, the only Erudite transfer left. Sarah is taller than all the other initiates, taller than my brother I think, but she's just as thin and boney as Az. Harper has been paired with James, the other Candor boy who transferred with him. Harper is slight where James is heavy, but, of what I've seen, Harper can be much more vicious.

My brother calls Az and Sarah to the square ring taped to the floor in the center of the room. They're both required to remove their shoes, to try and prevent too much serious damage occurring, and they square off in the ring. Both girls circle each other, hands in front of their faces like my brother showed us, and before I know it Az has Sarah on her back and blood is rushing from the taller girl's nose. Four calls off the fight, and declares Az the winner. I decide that I never want to be in a fight with Az.

It's my turn next. It takes me a moment longer to unlace by boots than it does Paisley to remove her Amity red slippers. I set my shoes to the side, step into the ring, and Paisley punches me in the face. I didn't see it coming, and it makes my brain feel like mud, but I put my hands up and try to block the next blow. She punches me twice more, then backs up and I feel like I have the space to breathe again. I'd known that some of the Dauntless fight dirty, but I hadn't expected it from one of the transfers, especially one from Amity.

When she comes at me again, I plant one of my feet on hers, but she moves in too closely for me to return fire to her face. I jab her in the ribs, the kidneys, anywhere else I can reach before she pulls away from me. I follow her until she backs away, and when her foot crosses the line behind her, my brother barks at her to return to the ring. She has no choice but to advance in my direction, and I manage to punch her once in the eye before Four calls the fight to an end. It's pretty satisfying.

* * *

Adele is again the only infant in the room when I relieve Fanny. She's lying on a blanket on the floor and playing with a set of colorful squishy blocks. She smiles at me and waves her hands and babbles. I take of my shoes at the door and settle down on the floor to play with her. The door stays open because it's stuffy in the room, and Fanny must agree with me because I can hear the noise her toddlers are making down the hall. There are several picture books on a shelf on the wall, and when Adele grows tired and grumpy of the blocks, I pick a few out and gather her into my lap.

_"Once upon a time there were four little rabbits – and their names were Flopsy, Mopsy, Cotton-tail, and Peter. They lived with their mother in a sandbank, underneath the root of a very big fir tree. 'Now, my dears,' says old Mrs. Rabbit one morning, 'you may go into the fields or down the lane, but don't go into Mr. McGregor's garden. Your father had an accident there. He was put in a pie by Mrs. McGregor. Now run along, and don't get into mischief. I am going out. Then old Mrs. Rabbit took a basket and her umbrella, and went through the wood to the baker's. She bought a loaf of brown bread and five currant buns."_

I bounced Adele on my knee.

_"Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cotton-tail, who were good little bunnies, went down the lane to gather blackberries; but Peter, who was very naughty, ran straight away to Mr. McGregor's garden, and squeezed under the gate! First he ate some lettuces; and some French beans; and then he ate some radishes; and then, feeling rather sick, he went to look for some parsley. But at the end of a cucumber frame, whom should he meet but Mr. McGregor!_ The thing you have to understand, cutie, is that rabbits are very mischievous creatures."

* * *

Four days pass in the same matter: shower, breakfast, and range practice in the morning, lunch, and fist fighting in the afternoon, two peaceful hours with Adele in the nursery, sleep. It's a constant cycle that I let myself get caught up in. Some things become easier, like rising early, and shooting a gun, and falling asleep at night, and at the same time, just as many things become more difficult: I can barely pick Adele up out of her crib, and I know I can't lift my arms above my head, and it becomes harder to win a fight when everyone else is learning too.

And in a very staggering moment, I realize it's Saturday night, and Visiting Day is tomorrow.

I put my spoon back in the banana pudding I'd managed to snag before heading back to my bunk; thinking that my father might show up tomorrow makes me sick to my stomach. I'd come to Dauntless because this is where I'm supposed to be, and because it's not my father's house. He's not here, and I don't want him to be, and there's not a thing I can do to stop him from coming to "visit". I can refuse to see him, hide in my room, but what kind of bravery is that? What kind of Dauntless will I make if I can't even look what terrifies me the most in the face?

_Cowardice_, my brother's voice reminds me, _is not the absence of fear, but the failure to act in the midst of it._

* * *

I let myself sleep in on Sunday morning. Az is the only other one in the room when I wake up, and she's still asleep in her bed. I gather my things and head to the bathroom, hoping that there will still be hot water. Paisley is in the bathroom when I open the door, and under the lights I get a good look at the still-fading black eye I'd given her in our fight. I have a matching one. She's wearing Dauntless black like she disagrees with the color. As I move to occupy a shower stall, she shoves the rest of her things together and storms out the door.

The water is lukewarm at best, but it's better than cold; I don't need to use all five minutes. I scrub my hair and wash as quickly as I can, and I'm out and drying off with a towel in three minutes. I put my clothes on and resolve to buy more, so that these can be washed. After a week of fighting and shooting and babysitting, I feel more stable in my black Dauntless clothes than I did for a long time in Abnegation grey.

When I get back to our room, Az is still awake, so I give her a few hard pokes until she rolls over and cracks an eye at me.

"What do you want?" she grumbles.

"You getting up for Visiting Day?"

"Fuck that," she says, and rolls back over.

That answers that question.

* * *

The cafeteria is busier than normal when I get there, and my wait in line is a bit longer too. There are still enough eggs to go around, so I fill my plate, grab a carton of milk, and seek my brother. He and Cate are sitting at a table together, but they're the only ones. I slip onto the bench by Four and dig into my food. Cate is making her way through a pile of eggs, potatoes, and peppers, but all my brother has is a steaming cup of coffee.

"If you ask nicely," I say after I swallow a mouth full of food, "the nice people who make food will give you some."

Cate snorts and Four rolls his eyes.

"Eat some," I say elbowing him.

"I don't want any."

"Eat some anyway."

"Olivia August, I will pour this coffee over your head if you try to feed me those eggs."

"You have two names?" Cate asks.

"Yeah," I say. I guess that practice isn't very common anymore.

"What about you, Four," Cate asks. "Do you have a middle name? Do you have a first name?"

"Now look what you've started," my brother grumbled.

"Not my fault you have a ridiculous nickname."

"I can see how you two are related," Cate says. "My sister and I used to snip at each other all the time."

"You have a sister?" I ask.

"Lindsay," she says. "She works on the fence, though. She's smarter than I am; I took this job."

"She's prettier, too," my brother says.

"You were raised better than that!" I scold over Cate's cursing. "I'd call you by all three of your names if I didn't take your coffee threat seriously."

"Good thing you do."

* * *

I stay in the cafeteria longer than Cate and my brother. Since the initiates have the day off, they have other duties to perform. I have two more cartons of milk, wasting my time before the inevitable. After I convince myself that my stomach will hold no more, I push away from the table and make the short trek to the Pit as slowly as I can. There are already families here, both Dauntless and other factions. I see Az, and though her family doesn't seem too pleased with her, they're here; it's more than can be said for some.

I scan the crowd, and a knot releases in my chest when I don't spot my father, but I know that if I'm ever going to overcome my fear of him, I cannot look once and run; I must give him time to come to me. I choose a ledge a story off the ground and skip my way over to it. I perch there, making myself as comfortable as I can. Visiting Day is from dawn until dusk, so I have a long time to wait.

By midday my legs are asleep and I've given up on trying to stay in one spot; if my father does want to see me, he'll come looking. I climb the steps to the nursery and am surprised to find that Fanny is already on duty. I ask her if it's alright if I help out in the infant room like usual, and she gives me a strange look, but agrees.

There's already another woman in the room, and there are five infants, not just Adele. She hands me a boy, dark haired and grumpy, and I put all my concentration into making him smile. He's too fussy to read to, and he doesn't want to stay in one position, so I make a game of bouncing him around. It's hell on my arms, but eventually he smiles, and it's worth it.

"That's my boy!" I grin. "That's the smile I wanted to see!"

"Olivia," Fanny says appearing in the doorway.

"Yes?"

"There's an initiate in the other room looking for you."

"Oh, alright."

I settle the baby, Nathanial, on my hip and bounce him down the hall to Fanny's toddler room. Az is standing just inside the doorway, looking uncomfortable and worried.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"There's a man in the Pit," she says, "and he's asking for his daughter. It's Marcus Eaton."

I sigh through my nose, and turn to hand the baby to Fanny.

"I'll try to be back tonight, Fanny. Or I'll see you tomorrow."

"Mmm hmmm."

I walk away from the nursery, and Az follows me. I practically fall down the stairs, and if I'd have had to catch myself, I would have cut up my hands on the rough stone. The Pit is quieter than it was earlier, but no emptier, and I can see why. My father is talking to Max, and while both are standing respectfully next to one another, I can tell Max would like nothing more than to punch the other man in the face. Az stops following my when we jump the last step, and my father pretends to ignore my presence as I walk through the crowd. The other Dauntless, and the initiates, and the other fractions follow me with their eyes.

I stop a good six feet away, crossing my arms and waiting for my father to be 'surprised' by my presence. He looks no worse than usual, and I briefly wonder if he's still sleeping in the Hub, and then I decide that I don't care.

"Olivia," my father says, and for all the world he looks like a happy father getting to see his baby girl again, but I know it's a lie; that's what Marcus is good at: lies. "It's so good to see you, sweetheart."

He takes a step forward, and I take a step back.

"You can stay there," I tell him, "and speak just fine."

"Olivia, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Marcus. Everything's finally right. What are you doing here?"

"It's Visiting Day. I came to visit."

"I didn't ask you to," I tell him, and even though my voice is soft, it's the only sound anyone in the room can hear. Every family and faction will witness what happens next. "I left. I thought you might have been smart enough to take that as the hint it was."

"Olivia, I don't understand. What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing that you didn't put there," I say harshly. "Go home, Marcus. And don't come back."

I hike the stairs faster than I ever have before, but I go calmly, and do my best to make it look like I haven't just turn my back and ran.

* * *

I wander around the compound for a long time, losing myself in the sameness of the tunnels. Eventually I turn a corner and I'm back in the Pit, but the other factions are gone; Visiting Day must be over. No one pays me much attention as I cross the floor, but I still feel like eyes are watching me and judging every move. I leave everyone else, and I end up back on the walkway that spans the river.

I know Eric has told me to take my thinking elsewhere, but over the roaring over the water I can't hear myself think, and that's what I need right now. I sit down in the middle, and dangle my legs over the side, but I make sure that I'm able to grab a rail should something go wrong again. I sit there for a long time.

This time I feel him coming, the walkway echoing with the vibrations of his footsteps. I look up at him at the same time he reaches my seat.

"Get off the goddamn walkway!" Eric says lowly, and I can barely make out the words over the water.

I climb to my feet and stumble when he takes my arm and all but drags me off away from the water. When we turn the corner and we're in the dark between lanterns, he thrusts my arm away from him and I stumble again.

"I told you to stay off that goddamn walkway."

"I told you I wasn't suicidal!"

"And how do I know that hasn't changed? Especially with that little spat in the Pit today."

"You leave my father out of this!"

"Or you'll what? Go back to thinking? I don't think you're listening to me: you are worth more to me alive than dead."

"I'm sorry you get a smack on the wrist every time an initiate throws themselves off, but it is my life, and if I decide to do away with it that is no one's business but mine! And if I decide that I'm done, then I'm done and there's not a damn thing you can do about it!"

"You're crying," Eric says calmly.

"What?"

I touch my face and my fingers come away wet. There's no way I can fight with Eric while I'm crying, it just can't be done. I turn on my heel and leave.


	6. to eat flowers and not to be afraid

Monday is the last day of the first stage of initiation.

All of the initiates, both Dauntless born and transfers, are herded into the training room. All nineteen of our names are written on the chalkboard, and eighteen of us are paired together; Az doesn't have a name matched to hers. After a week in the compound, no one is still in their old faction's colors. It's a sea of black that is only interrupted by hair and skin color.

Cate is moving people around, matching us like the names on the board. I am paired with a Dauntless born boy who is a foot taller than I am and three times as wide. He has a bar through his brow and tattoos on his arm. His name is Connor. He looks down at me and I get the distinct impression that he thinks he can snap me in two. He's probably right.

My brother walks in with Eric right behind him. Cate joins them when she's done, and they stand on the other side of the room talking in hushed voices long enough for my nerves to work themselves up into my throat. Eventually they break apart, and Cate and Four stand on either side of the ring on the floor. Eric steps inside it, faces us, and crosses his arms.

"Today is the last day of stage one," he says. "Eighteen of you have yet to be ranked. Those eighteen will fight for a better position than you're already in. Remember, four of you will be leaving, so this will be the time to try and change our minds about whether or not you stay. The person to beat is Azalea," Eric rolls his eyes at her name, and Az blushes, "She's in first place. We'll announce results after we break for lunch.

"Harper and Jenny are first."

Harper steps into the ring with a Dauntless born girl of the same height. They're both slight, and fast, but I don't know if the girl is as cunning or vicious as Harper. She punches him once in the nose, and I can hear the bone break from where I'm standing. I guess now I know. They circle each other, and Harper acts as if the blood gushing from his nose is barely an inconvenience. He fits in several solid shots to her arms and chest, and what sounds like a horribly painful kick to the abdomen, but she continues on, returning everything she takes. In the end, Harper wins.

It continues for an hour; Eric calls a pair to the ring, they fight, our instructors evaluate, and call the fight to an end I the one instance that a Dauntless born continues to punch his opponent even after the other is unconscious. The results vary.

James (T) vs. William (D) – William (D)

Jason (D) vs. Talia (D) – Talia (D)

Tamsin (D) vs. Paisley (T) – Tamsin (D)

Sarah (T) vs. Callie (D) – Callie (D)

After the fifth match, I realize that none of the transfers have won their fights, and that my name is on the board next. Eric calls us to the ring. We don't remove our shoes this time, so there aren't any precautions against serious injury. Connor's feet are massive, and I hope I don't get stepped on. We face each other, hands up and protecting our faces, and wait for one of the instructors to call the fight to a start.

"Go!" my brother shouts.

Connor hesitates and I take the pause to step in closer and swing at him. He blocks easily, but he leaves his face open as he does, so I use the opening to punch him in the face. He jerks away and blinks rapidly, but I don't think I've done much damage. He jabs at me and I dodge, but I make the same mistake he did and I leave my face open. He punches me in the jaw and it feels like hot thunder rolling through my bones. I kick out, but my foot glances off of his thigh and he uses my momentum to unbalance me. I land on my back and all the air flees from my lungs. I kick up with both feet and catch him in the stomach; now I'm glad we're still wearing shoes.

Connor stumbles back, gaging like he's trying not to vomit, and I roll to my feet. He's a little unsteady, so I kick him again. My blow lands on his hip and it's just enough to push him to the floor. He's recovering quickly, so before he can get off of the ground, I hold his arm to the ground with one foot, and press the other one down on his throat. He waits to see if I'm bluffing, and when he finally decides that I'm not, he taps my foot, and the fight is over.

I'm the only transfer to win a fight.

* * *

When we break for lunch, the nerves in my stomach have knotted so tight I'm not able to eat. I leave the others to congratulate Az in the cafeteria, and I head back into the Pit. The clothing store Cate took me to is three stories up, so I start climbing. Dawn is behind the counter when I pull myself onto the ledge in front of the entrance, and she's no more awake than when we were introduced.

"Hey there, cutie," she says. "Looking for something special?"

"No," I tell her. "I just need more than one set of clothes."

"Every girl does. Let me know if you need help finding shoes in your size," she teases.

"Thanks."

I wander through the shelves picking up a few more tank tops, a few t shirts, another pair of pants. In the back corner there's a section full of more feminine items: bras, underwear, makeup. There's a box of something I don't recognize sitting on the shelf amongst the shampoos, and I wander back to the front with it in my hand.

"Hey, Dawn," I call showing her the box. "What is this?"

"No!" she says, yanking it from my hand. "You are not allowed to dye your pretty red hair! You're not allowed to do anything to it!"

"What?"

"It's hair dye. Black hair dye."

"Huh. We didn't have that in Abnegation."

"Abnegation is all about being selfless, so it doesn't matter if you don't like your hair color. In Dauntless you can be more vain. Is this all you wanted?"

"I think I'm going to get another pair of socks."

"What about makeup? Have you ever worn any?"

"No."

"Do you want to?"

"I don't know?"

"Is that a question? Silly girl."

"Abnegation is about being selfless," I repeat. "I didn't even know what makeup was until I was a teenager and some of the Amity girls in my class at school started wearing some."

"You don't need it," she assures me. "You're very pretty without it. Makeup is about hiding what you don't want other people to see, and making them notice what you do want them to see. You're grey eyes would pop with a little bit of eyeliner."

"Thank you?"

"Set your stuff down," she says patting an empty space on the counter. She reaches around to ruffle though a bag next to her chair and she comes back around with a small mirror, and three black tubes. "Can I show you what I'm talking about?"

I put my stuff down and nod slowly. I've never worn makeup, but I've seen it do some pretty amazing things among the girls in my school class. One day an Erudite girl came to school and I couldn't see any of her acne or the scars left behind by it. She pulls a chair around for me to sit in and puts the small mirror in my hand.

"Look up," she says, and when I do she pulls on my face until my bottom eyelid has come away from my eye. She sets something to it and runs it over the sensitive skin there. "This is chalk eyeliner," she says. "You can put it on as lightly or as think as you want and it stays all day. It's usually best for the bottom of your eye." She does my other eye, then lets me blink for a moment. "Now close your eyes." The brush she sets to my eyelid is cold, and she moves in in a smooth stroke from my inner corner out passed where my eyelid ends. "This is liquid eyeliner. It's usually best for the top of the lid." After we've completed those steps, she holds a bristled brush in front of my eye and commands me to blink repeatedly. "This is mascara. It's pretty much just paint for your eyelashes.

"You're a gorgeous girl," she says. "Look in the mirror."

My eyes are lined all the way around in black, and the lines on the top flare out passed my corner lids. She's even colored my eyelashes black to match. And she's right, the black eyeliner does make my grey eyes pop. They look so much brighter not that they're not sitting against the pale color of my skin. With the makeup on, I hardly notice the bruises Connor left on my face.

Thinking of Connor makes me look at the clock on the wall. I have ten minutes before I have to be back in the training room; that's just enough time to run and put my new clothes in my bunk, and get back.

_Well_, I think as I gather my things and thank Dawn, _at least if I become factionless I'll have more than one pair of clothes._

* * *

"What happened to your face?" Az asks me when she takes her place next to me.

_Shit_, I think, _it doesn't look good. And I've been walking around with this stupid stuff on my face._

"Um, Dawn, the woman in the clothing store, she showed me how to, you know?"

"I like it," she says confidently and I relax a little.

The air in the room is tense. The chalkboard has been covered with a sheet so none of us can see where our names have been placed. The Dauntless born keep away from the transfers, spreading out across the room and muttering amongst themselves. My foot starts tapping, and it makes a floorboard creak, but I can't seem to stop. I'm not the only nervous one. Harper is chewing on his fingernails and scratching at the bandages laid across his nose. Az is intentionally taking deep breaths and letting them out. Our instructors are late.

The door finally creeps open behind us and everyone in the room turns to look. Four, Cate, and Eric walk in; Four and Cate look resigned.

"We've finalized your ranks," Eric says. "Remember that the higher your rank, the more likely you are to succeed. The bottom four will be leaving."

My brother moves through the crowd, and yanks the sheet away from the Chalkboard. Several cries, both of relief and despair, ring out in the crowd. I make sure to read the list very carefully.

1. Azalea (Transfer)

2. Alice (Dauntless)

3. Talia (Dauntless)

4. Olivia (Transfer)

5. Jason (Dauntless)

6. Harper (Transfer)

I stop reading when I find Harper's name. I'm relieved that he, Az, and I are still in the running, but both Paisley and Sarah are in the bottom four.

They're factionless now.

* * *

I don't know what happens to the bottom four, just that when Az and I get back to our bunk, both Sarah's and Paisley's things are gone. I separate out the pile of clothing I dumped on my bed and begin to fold it. Three more tank tops, two t shirts, another pair of pants, a new bra, a handful of panties, and four pair of socks. It isn't a lot, but it's what I need.

"You have new clothes," Az says from her bunk. "I want new clothes. Let's go get me clothes."

I laugh and follow her from the room. We race each other down to the Pit and then up to the third story. She scrambles over the rock easier than I do, but my legs are longer. We're racing up the final leg of stairs when Az drags me to a stop. She gazing through the entrance of a well-lit art studio, and she starts grinning before I make the final connection.

"Screw new clothes; they can wait! I want a tattoo!"

She pulls me inside and wanders over to a wall full of design examples.

"What do you think I should get?" she asks. "A bird, maybe?"

"I'm not telling you what to but on your body," I tell her. "It'll be there for forever."

"Can I help you?" a man asks wandering through another door in the back.

"I want a tattoo," Az says.

"I would hope so. This is a tattoo parlor."

I snort at the man's dry wit.

"What do you want and where?"

"I don't really know yet. What's not popular, but still good? I don't want something everyone else has."

"The tribals aren't too popular," he says, indicating a poster of hand drawn tribal designs. They range everywhere from a heart to a dragon to a lion.

"It's a little masculine for me," she ponders out loud.

"This is Dauntless. Everything's masculine."

"Good point. I want the sun. In the middle of my back."

The one she's picked is a simple circle with jagged lines representing rays.

"I can do that. Hey Eric," my head whips around to see Eric standing in the doorway watching us. "Tori's still working on her last appointment. I'll let her know you're here."

Eric nods.

"C'mon, initiate. Let's get you inked," he leads Az back through the doorway he came out of.

"Never figured you for ink, Abnegation."

"I'm not, Dauntless."

He smirks and steps further into the room. Standing in a tattoo parlor with him makes me examine the tattoos he's already got. Two separate lines of thick stylized blocks run down either side of his neck from the start of his jaw to where they disappear under his shirt; the same pattern is repeated on the outside of his forearms.

"Why not? You scared of the needle?"

"I'm not Dauntless," I say. "Not yet, at least. I haven't earned it."

My answer seems to surprise him. The needle does make me a bit wary, in fact, but the real thing stopping me from joining Az is that initiation isn't over. What if I don't make it? What if I'm factionless by the end? Then I'm stuck with a permanent reminder that I wasn't good enough, that I failed. I'll celebrate when I've done something to deserve it.

"I'm sorry," I say suddenly, quietly. I don't want the others in the back to hear me, "for crying on you last night. That wasn't like me."

"I hope not. If it is, you're a fantastic actor."

"I'll take that as a compliment anyway," I scoff. "I'm not usually upset like that, it's not who I am."

"Then who are you? Besides a disobedient pain in my ass."

"What is your problem with the chasm?"

"I don't like it when people throw themselves off."

"I am not suicidal!" I hiss.

"Then why go back?"

"Because it's loud," I say without thinking about it. "It's so loud I can't hear myself think, and sometimes I don't want to hear myself think."

"Take a train ride," he says. "At least then if you die I don't have to worry about pulling your body out of the water."

"I'm not allowed to leave the compound alone," is my answer.

An olive skinned woman comes out of the back with another man in tow and that stops Eric's reply before it starts. The man it sporting a new and irritated looking tattoo of the Dauntless emblem on his shoulder.

"Remember to wash it properly and keep lotion on it. Scabs are the enemy. Come one back, Eric."

"I'll see you when I see you, Olivia."

I think that's the first time he's said my name.

* * *

By the time is Az is done, my feet hurt from standing, and she's happier than I've ever seen her.

"Look!" she says, hiking up the back of her shirt.

"It looks good," I tell her, and it does. Az's skin is still sun kissed all over from the last sixteen years she spent in the Amity compound and the black of the ink stands out in superb contrast.

"I want another one!"

"Let's let this one heal first," I say. "If you get them now, there'll be nothing to look forward to."

"You're right. Let's go get food."

Food sounds wonderful, my stomach tells me, especially since I skipped lunch. The cafeteria is sparsely populated since it isn't prime meal time, but it isn't completely empty. My brother is sitting at a table by himself, so after I've grabbed what I can actually eat, I head over to keep him company. Az follows me, but then hesitates when she sees where I'm headed.

"Are you sure that's smart? Bothering our training instructor when he's not, you know, instructing us?"

"It's fine," I tell her. "Sit down."

I sit in front of my brother and Az sits next to me.

"Go away," Four says. "I'm not your instructor right now, so you don't exist to me."

"Be nice," I say, and kick him under the table for good measure.

"Ow," he hisses. "There's no need to be violent."

"Az, this is my brother. Brother dearest, this is my friend Az."

"He's your brother?"

"You made a friend?"

"Yes," I tell them both. "Four is a year older than me, so he transferred first. And you, why do you always my friend making skills?"

"Because you're as prickly as a fully grown cactus."

"I am not. You take that back."

"And you're as cuddly as a pack of rabid wolves."

Az laughs and the fake tension between Tobias and I is broken, but in revenge I plop a spoonful of banana pudding on the top of his hamburger. He drops a French fry in my glass of water. Az scoots her tray away and pretends to protect it. It's a good meal.


	7. and staggered banged with terror through

I'm lying on my back in the middle of the nursery with Adele bouncing on my chest. She's a hefty infant and every time she lands too heavily on my chest I huff. She's back in her black Dauntless shirt, but today she's wearing a pair of dark red pants, and little baby combat boots, too. She looks like the Dauntless she may one day grow up to be. The door swings open and Fanny stands there in all her glory, a toddler on each hip and another clinging to the bottom of her shirt.

"You," she says. "you only have one baby. Take Adele, and go down to the kitchen, and find out where the hell lunch is for these little shits. I swear to God if one of them starts crying again because the goddamn food trollie is late, I'm going to split someone's head open."

This is one of the things I like about Fanny. She doesn't take any shit, and she'll tell you where she stands, and where you stand around her; I suspect that she transferred from Candor.

"I can do that," I tell her.

"There's a baby sling in the cabinet," she says, pointing without taking her and off of one of the toddlers. "Be careful going down the stairs. Plenty of people pay no mind to the baby strapped to your chest, and just plow on through."

"I will," I say, pulling the sling over my head; it's green. "If I catch them on the way up, I'll just feed Adele in the cafeteria. I'm starving."

"Yeah, alright. Just find my food."

"I'm going, I'm going."

I scoop Adele up and tuck her into the sling; she giggles and claps, and I hand her a squishy red block to play with while I walk down the stairs. Fanny takes her kids back to her room, and I head out in search of the food cart. I keep one hand under Adele, and the other on the wall, making sure that I keep my balance; I couldn't care less if I tripped and fell and broke my nose so long as I wasn't carrying a baby when I did it. Adele is fascinated by an environment that isn't the nursery room; she keeps popping her head up, then going back to her block, then looking out again to see if anything has changed.

As I make my way down to the first floor, two men a few years older than me push by, just like Fanny said they would, and I have to cover Adele's head to keep her from banging against the wall.

"Watch it, asshole!"

"What was that, bitch?" the eldest one whips around and says.

"I said watch it."

"Yeah? Who's going to make me? You and the baby?"

"I can."

All three of us look down the last six feet to the Pit floor. Max and Eric are standing there, but I can't decide who it was that spoke; I was too worried that one of the two that pushed passed me would shove me over the ledge with the baby still in my arms. Both of the men freeze where they are.

"I know I didn't just see you push Olivia into the wall," Max says.

"She's just a transfer, sir," says the one that talked back to me.

"Transfer or no, she's carrying a Dauntless child. I don't need to remind you how precious children are in this faction."

"No, sir."

"Good. I think the janitor may need some help cleaning the floors over the next week. What do you gentlemen think?"

"Yes, sir," they both say, and continue to trudge up the stairs, though one turns to give me a dirty look.

I finish climbing down the stairs before someone else can come along and try the same thing. Max and Eric are still standing in the same spot.

"Thanks," I tell Max. "I wasn't sure what I'd have done if he's pushed me again."

"It's not a problem. Thank you for keeping, is that Adele? Adele safe."

"Yeah," I say, rubbing her tummy. She smiles and waves her hands.

I nod at them both, and continue around them to the cafeteria. It's just after the regular lunch rush, so there are still quite a few people lingering, but not as many as probably half an hour ago. I pass by to see what's on the line for today, before heading over to the large silver doors that read 'Kitchen Staff Only'. I knock pretty loudly, and wait for someone to answer. The boy who does is about five years younger than I am, and very harried looking; his shirt is stained, and he has flour in his hair.

"What?" he asks.

"Fanny asked me to come down," I tell him. "She still hasn't gotten food for the toddlers."

"Sorry," he says. "I was on my way up when one of the stove burners caught on fire. I'll just be another few minutes."

"Good. Is it alright if I go ahead and take the baby food?"

"Sure, let me get that."

He disappears through the doors, and back again before a full minute has passed. He hands me a jar of smushed green peas, and a small baby sized spoon.

"Thanks."

With Adele's food in hand, I get in line and get a tray for myself. There are several vegetables today, and not as much fruit as usual, but it's a nice change. And as always, there's banana pudding. When I have everything together, I turn around to find a place to sit and see Az waving her hand at me. I smile at her and head in her direction, making sure I don't hit anyone with my tray or the baby. When I sit down, I adjust the sling so Adele is sitting in my lap, but still supported. She can't sit up by herself yet, and most likely won't be able to for a few months, but she likes to be able to see around her.

"I thought baby duty was you're punishment," Az says. "Why are you still doing it on our first day off from initiation?"

"I like babies," I tell her, unscrewing the lid from the pea jar and dipping my finger inside to make sure it hasn't come straight out of the fridge; the cold hurts Adele's gums. "And I don't have anything else to do. It's not like we can prepare for the next stage; we don't even know what it is."

"You don't want to hang out with me and meet the other initiates?"

"Not really," I say quietly. "I'd have enough trouble if you or Harper didn't pass. I don't want to like anyone else until this is over."

"Yeah, that is kind of depressing," she says. "On another hand, I think my tattoo is infected."

"You haven't even had is a full day," I tell her, coaxing more peas into Adele's mouth.

"I know. It itches like fire, but when I touch it it hurts like hell."

"We'll go back to the parlor after lunch and ask them to check it out."

"Okay."

I finish feeding Adele as fast as she'll eat it, but she's being particularly stubborn. When she finally decides she's had enough, I balance her over my shoulder and start to rock her back and forth with one hand while feeling myself with the other. Az watches me the whole time with a strange look on her face.

"So, do you have kids?"

"What? No!"

"You're really good with her."

"And that makes you think I have kids?"

"Just a thought," she shrugs. "Teen pregnancy's not that unheard of in Amity, free love and all."

"Our neighbors in Abnegation had several children. I used to keep them so the mother could help her eldest children with their homework."

"Kids look good on you," she says. "You should think about having some."

"Maybe later," I say. "When I'm dead."

* * *

Fanny makes me leave the nursery when I get back from lunch. Cassandra is there to take Adele, now that she's recovered from her stomach virus, so there isn't a real reason for me to stick around.

"Why do I have to go?" I ask even as I hand her over.

"You've been here every night for a week, and now this morning," Fanny says. "Go enjoy what little time you have off."

"I don't have anything else to do."

"Make friends, relax, explore. Now, get out."

I leave Adele with Cassandra and turn out of the nursery, taking the stairs two at a time just because I can now that I don't have a baby strapped to my chest. I pass by several shops as I take the long way down, but I pass them by. A nap sounds marvelous now that I have nothing to do and food in my belly, so I head back towards our bunkroom.

The room is empty, so I shed my boots and my pants, and I turn out the light.

* * *

I feel like I can't breathe. I try to open my mouth, bring the air back into my lungs, something, but I just can't. It's dark, and hot, and when I feel a hand grab my wrist as I flail, I realize this isn't a dream. The hand over my face moves and I can finally breathe through my nose, but I can't make a sound, can't call for help, if any would even come. I don't know who's here with me, but unless they have more than two hands, there are at least two of them.

Neither of them speaks as they pull me from my mattress. I kick and tug as best as I can, but they're both bigger and stronger than I am; I'm left to try and be the biggest inconvenience I can be. One of them stuffs something in my mouth then holds me by the wrists, and the other fights to grab my ankles. I kick at him, and manage to hit him square in the eye, but that only makes them madder; he spits a curse at me, rubs his eye, and yanks me off the floor. The one advantage of this new position is that I can see one of their faces. I don't know the one who's holding my feet.

They carry me out of my room, and down the hall. I can't tell where we're going, I don't even recognize the wall, but it could just be that I've never seen them from this angle. We don't pass anyone. I can't see in the dark when we walk between lanterns, but every time we near one I try to figure out just where we are in the compound. It doesn't work, probably because I don't know the criss cross of tunnels well enough yet.

As we turn a corner, one of the hands around my ankles slips off and I take the opportunity to struggle harder. I manage to kick him in the knee and the crotch, but before I can recover to serve another blow, the one holding my wrists drops me. I don't expect it, and my head hits the stone floor hard enough to leave me dizzy and nauseous. I don't have time to recover before they have me restrained again. For a few moments I can't do anything but try to keep myself from throwing up and choking on my own vomit. I'm so concentrated on not losing whatever I ate last, that I don't hear it at first.

It starts like a quiet whisper in my ear, and grows louder like an enormous crowd cheering, more and more and more people chanting. I don't realize where we're headed until one of the men's feet steps on metal grating, and I hear it rock and sway under his weight. We're headed for the chasm.

I wriggle, and I pull, and I twist, and I turn, but they both have good grips on all of my limbs. I don't know what the fuck is going on. I've been grabbed out of bed and dragged through the compound, and now I'm going to be thrown to my death in the exact manner I've been warned against.

_No one will think it's murder_, a voice in my head whispers, _Eric has caught you out here twice. He'll just think you really were suicidal, that you just went ahead and jumped. And these two will get away with it. No one will care about the death of another initiate, especially a transfer._

Something in that thought disgusts me.

I yank my hand away from the man behind me. He curses in surprise, but it's too late. I reach behind me and dig my finger nails into the soft skin of his calf. He pulls away, and my hand goes with him, and it's just enough force to pull my ankles out of the other man's grasp. I roll to the side, thinking of nothing other than getting away from either of them. I get my hand under me and I push up and my head starts spinning again. I feel fingers scrabble over my leg and I kick backwards. I don't know what I hit, but I hit something.

I scurry away, and yank whatever is in my mouth out, intending to be able to bit whatever comes at me next. I put my back to the tunnel wall and fling my hair out of my face. The man stalking in my direction is bigger than I thought he was, and when his nose crinkles, I know who it is. This is the same man and his friend that pushed me on the stairs when I had Adele with me.

"What the fuck!" I spit out.

Neither of them say anything, but the one that pushed me does come forward. I pull my feet under me and launch myself at him, catching him around the middle. He lands on his back, and with my weight on top of him he loses his breath. I punch him one, twice before his friend drags me off. My arms are pulled behind my back, wrenched up until my shoulders burn and I scream. The one that pushed me gets to his feet, then bends over and pulls my feet off the floor again.

They're ready for any kind of protest I might give now, so when they step out onto the metal grated walkway above the chasm, there isn't anything I can do to stop them. They haul me out into the middle and hoist me up. I take a deep breath, and look the one at my ankles in in the eye. They toss me over.

I flail out in one last attempt to catch something as I go over, and I manage to grip the railing. As rusted and unsteady it may be, it holds my weight for the moment. The metal is wet and slippery and I can feel the current of the river trying to drag me under by my legs.

The two men that threw me over scramble away from the edge until one of them realizes that I haven't fallen into the water. The friend growls and stalks towards me and begins to pry my fingers from the bar. I do what I can to stop him, but it's honestly not much. I'm too busy watching my fingers slip from the bar, too worried thinking about what's going to happen next, and I don't see someone punch the other one in the face. The one prying my fingers from their hold is shoved away, and two hands are grabbing my arms and pulling me up.

It's my brother and, surprisingly, Eric. Tobias holds me close while Eric deals with the other two in a fashion I adamantly approve of. As my heart slows down, and the adrenaline fades from my ears, I realize I'm standing over the chasm in just a shirt and my underwear. The absence of modestly doesn't bother me, but I'm cold from my partial dip into the water, and when I shiver, Tobias hugs me closer.

"What the hell happened?" Eric asks when he's sure both of the other men are unconscious.

"Th-they grabbed m-m-me out-t-t of b-b-bed-d," I stutter. Tobias pulls his shirt off and drops it over my head. "Th-th-they're the o-ones th-that p-pushed me this m-m-morning."

"Pushed you?" my brother asks.

"She was coming down the stairs in the Pit with one of the infants, and these jackasses pushed her into the wall," Eric tells him so that I don't have to. "Max told them to help the janitors clean the floors for the rest of the week."

"Jesus Christ," my brother sighs. "C'mon, let's get you cleaned up."

Tobias helps me step forward, but without the adrenaline and something else to concentrate on, the nausea is climbing my throat again. I lean over the side and vomit, and it doesn't taste good. My brother is kind enough to pull my hair back.

"Are you alright?" he asks.

"I hit my head," I tell him. "I'm pretty dizzy."

"Yep," he agrees, and slowly scoops me up. Once I'm balanced in his arms, he turns to Eric, who's been watching us. "I'm going to take her to the infirmary. You going to handle them?"

"Yeah," says darkly. "I'll handle them."

His voice sends a cold spark down my spine.

* * *

When I wake up, I'm lying on a bed softer than the ones given to the initiates, and I can hear someone murmuring in the distance. I sit up, and my head doesn't swim and I'm not nauseous, but I have a pounding headache and my mouth tastes like regurgitated food. I feel the back of my head and my hair is tacky with a bit of blood, but I don't feel any stitches.

I swing my feet off of the bed and I notice that I'm still pantsless, but I don't care. I push the curtain aside, and shuffle out towards the voices. It's two women I don't recognize, and they have their heads bent over a newspaper, whispering about something or other.

"Do you," I have to suppress the urge to gag from the taste in my mouth, and they both look up at me. "Can I go?"

"You have a concussion," one of them says. "You may need to stay the rest of the night."

"Are you serious? No."

I am so sick of what's going on that I can feel it like a spoiled meal in my stomach, or that could just be a latent wave of motion sickness. I have been dragged out of bed, knocked into a concussion, bruised from head to toe, and tossed over the chasm. I make the firm decision that I am going to sleep in my own bed. After I brush my teeth.

"I'm sorry, ladies, but if you want be to stay the night, you're going to have to sedate me. I'll be in the bunkroom I share with the other transfers. Goodnight."

I don't bother to wait for a reply, I just storm out. I don't know where I am, and I don't know where I'm going, but I'll be damned if I just sit around anymore.


	8. and dark beginnings are his luminous end

I've never really noticed how cold parts of the Dauntless compound is, but I've never wandered around partially clothed before either. I steadily move away from the infirmary, and towards what I hope is my bunkroom. My ankles hurt, and my wrists hurt, and my head hurts, and I wish I was asleep in my bed, but the first thing I'm going to accomplish is a shower and brushing my teeth. I have no clue what time it is, but by the time I get back to my room I figure it's only a few hours before everyone else is us. I grab my things, my towel, my toothbrush, and a new set of clothes that includes pants, and march to the bathroom.

I reset the shower spray twice and relish in a longer-than-normal shower. The hot water stings the wound on my head, but it makes my muscles go from feeling line grinding stones to feeling like stiff jelly. When I don't see any more blood washing down the drain, I just stand there. I think about Adele, and I think about the men that nearly killed me tonight, and I think about my brother and Eric coming to my rescue when I thought there wouldn't be one. I think about the worry on my brother's face, and the rage on Eric's. I think about everything until I'm tired of thinking about it.

I climb out of the shower and dress in my clean clothes, barring my boots and socks. I leave my hair loose so I don't agitate my cut, and I wash my face again to make sure that there isn't any makeup, or blood, or vomit left. Then I spend ten minutes brushing my teeth. Once that laborious task is completed and I feel like I can talk without gagging, I head back to my room to stash my things. I find my socks, and I lace up my boots, and I leave.

* * *

I don't know where I'm going, but I feel like I can't sit still. I head towards the Pit, and as soon as I step out into the open I know there are too many people around, never mind that they only number twenty or so. No one looks twice at me, and I take it as a godsend that no one has heard about what happened in the middle of the night. I flee the room, and I head towards the chasm, and I pause at the edge of the walkway. I don't fear what happened, because it didn't; they didn't throw me over, I didn't fall into the water, I didn't die.

I put one foot in front of the other and I make myself cross the bridge. I haven't been through this part of the complex, so I figure it's a nice place to get lost in. The tunnels are a little better lit, the floors are smoothed out a bit more, and I don't feel like I'm going to bleed every time I bump a wall. After I travel a few yards down the hall, doors begin to appear at random. They look solid, and well built, and exactly the same. They aren't marked with anything, and they don't seem to be numbered, so I have no way of telling them apart. I keep going.

I turn this way and that, and weave around corners, and every so often the floor will rise for one or two steps, then slope back down. I walk until there isn't anywhere else to walk to. I reach a dead end, but I don't feel like turning around, so I put my back to the wall and just sit. It's quiet. I put my head on my knees and I think I sleep.

* * *

"Olivia."

"Olivia."

"Stop kicking me, Eric," I say, shoving his foot away.

"Where the fuck have you been? Four's been looking for you since you disappeared last night."

"I didn't disappear," I tell him, moving my hair out of my face.

"No one's seen you in eight hours."

_Has it been that long? I must have been more tired than I thought. _

"Sorry," I say faintly. "What time is it?"

"One in the afternoon. You were supposed to stay in the infirmary last night. You have a concussion."

"I didn't want to," I tell him, climbing to my feet. My knees are stiff. "And it's not like the nurses tried to stop me."

He rolls his eyes, and I lean against the wall.

"Well," I say. "You found me. Now what do you want?"

"Four wants you brought back to the infirmary. He even said you'd argue."

"He's right. I'm not going."

"Fine. Make sure you're at training in the morning."

He turns his back to walk away.

"I want to go on a train ride," I say before I can think about it.

"What?"

He turns to look at me and I have to make the decision to keep going; my mouth is dry and my tongue is sticking to the roof of my mouth.

"A train ride. You said the next time I needed to clear my head I should go on a train ride. I can't go without a Dauntless member."

"So take Four."

"It was your idea."

"I'm not going."

"Why not?"

"I don't have to tell you why not. I'm not going."

"Are you scared?"

Something in his eyes darkens, and a chill runs through my fingers, but I refuse to be afraid. He stalks towards me, tall and looming, his boots hitting the floor quietly. It isn't until he's less than a foot away from me and I'm backed up against the tunnel wall that I realize how much bigger he is than me. Eric is about six feet tall, maybe a few inches more, and he's at least twice my size. He's intimidating, I'll give him that, but it's not like I have anywhere to run with my back pressed against the wall. I meet his eyes, and I have to tip my head back to do so.

"Do you want to repeat that, transfer?" he says softly.

"No, not really. But I feel like I'll scream if I have to stay here any longer, and you look like you still want to punch something. We both need a break. I'm offering you an excuse to disappear for a few hours."

* * *

We jump off of the same roof I arrived on. It's more violent this time; there isn't much room to gain a running start, so when I grab hold of an open car, the train pulls me off my feet and I have to pull myself in before I fall. Eric doesn't have the same trouble. His movement is a graceful 1-2-3 run-grab-pull that I hope I'll be able to accomplish sometime in the future. I sit on the edge of the car and let my legs hang out the door. My hair whips around until I catch it in a loose ponytail; it aggravates my cut a little.

Eric sits further into the train car, backed up against the metal sides with his legs stretched out in front of him and his arms crossed. He leans his head back and closes his eyes, and seems to drop off to sleep. Without his eyes on me, I'm free to examine the tattoos on his arms; the stylized blocks have been extended to his elbows instead of stopping half way there. I turn away and leave him be.

We're headed away from the city, towards the fence and the Amity farms. I don't know if Eric wants to go all the way to the end of the line, but I don't question him right now. I watch the rest of the city whiz by, factionless and broken. Grey buildings made of concrete, like in Abnegation, buildings made of glass and steel, and some smaller buildings made of brick. Even though this part of the city is technically factionless, I don't think they live this far out. These buildings are just empty.

I close my eyes and I let the wind roar and the wheels bump against the tracks, and I stop thinking.

* * *

It takes an hour for the train to reach the fence. I can see it in the distance before we reach it, and it extends in either directions towards the horizon and farther than I can see. It's twelve feet tall, and the top is interwoven with barbed wire. I stand on the lip of the car door, and lean out. Of what I can see beyond the fence, it's beautiful outside the city. The sky is blue, and the fields are green, and the air smells cleaner than it ever has in the city.

I pull myself back into the train car and walk towards Eric. He's still asleep like he has been the whole time. I call his name and nudge his boots with the end of mine, just like he did when he woke me up. He doesn't stir. I repeat myself, and kick him a little harder. Nothing. I give up and walk a little closer.

"Eric," I say again, this time shaking his shoulder.

His hand comes up and grabs my wrist, but he isn't harsh; I don't know if it's because he doesn't consider me a threat, or because he's always this slow when he's been asleep, which I doubt. He blinks up at me, and standing this close to him I can tell his eyes are green and grey, and slowly let's my wrist go.

"What?"

"We're nearing the fence. Are we going all the way around or are we walking back?"

"If we go all the way around the city, we won't make it back for training in the morning," he says.

"Walking it is then," I say.

"There's half a mile of grass between the edge of the city and the fence. We'll jump there."

I nod, and go back to the car door.

I don't hear Eric get to his feet, but I can feel him behind me, watching the fence just like I am. The train slows down, not much but enough to be noticeable, as we near the fence. He doesn't have to tell me to jump when we reach the grass. I tuck my knees in and roll, just like brother taught us how to take a fall, and just lay on the ground, my limbs spread out in the grass. Eric jumps, hits the ground, and only has to take a few steps to regain his balance. I thread my fingers through the blades and pluck a few.

"Quite marveling at the grass, and come one," he says, heading back the way we came; we should be able to follow the tracks all the way back to Dauntless headquarters.

"We didn't have grass in Abnegation, just gravel," I say climbing to my feet and following him.

"You can come back and roll in the dirt after you pass initiation."

"What makes you think I will?" I ask, pushing myself up on my elbows.

He's only about ten feet from me, and he just keeps walking. I scramble to my feet and follow him, gaining slowly until I'm walking evenly with him, despite his longer gait. He pretends like he hasn't heard me and I count to thirty before I repeat the question.

"What makes you think I'll pass initiation?"

"What makes you think you won't?"

"Because I don't know what the others are capable of," I pause, "Az is a better fighter, but not as good as a shot; Harper isn't a good shot at all really, but he's both resourceful and vicious in the ring, never mind if he was actually having to fight for his life or someone else's; I wouldn't stand a chance in a fight with either of them. I have no idea what the Dauntless born initiates can do. They've been doing this their whole lives, so I have to assume they're better than I am. I'm mediocre, middle of the pile, not the worst, but not the best, and if I'm not the best I can't be sure of where I'll be ranked; if I don't know where I rank, I might as well be out of the running."

"Has anyone ever told you you think like and Erudite?" he asks.

"Yes," I say.

"So why didn't you transfer there?"

"The Erudite give us medicine, and technology, and solutions for problems I didn't know we had," I tell him, "but that's all they care about, how smart you are, what kind of knowledge you can store in your brain, that's it. They wouldn't care if their brother strangled three people, because they would have to assume it was for a good reason. They're selfish, and I don't say that as a bad thing, because I think everyone needs to be selfish at some point, but that's all they are: smart and selfish. They could consume the world and think nothing of is so long as they had someone to gloat to."

"You still haven't given me an answer."

I let my arms swing at my sides for several paces. He's asked two questions I've never had to verbally answer to. I don't know why, not logically, I didn't choose Erudite, I just knew that wasn't where I belong.

"I wanted a family," I say quietly. "I wanted something to make me want to get out of bed in the morning, something I can protect and keep safe, something that wouldn't be a power struggle my entire life, like Erudite."

"Why not Amity?"

"'m too violent," I say simply.

* * *

Eric and I have been walking for an hour and are trekking on concrete before either of us says anything else. I don't recognize any of the buildings, but the feel of the city is familiar, and reminds me of Tobias and me walking to school in the morning.

"Where are we?"

"About eight miles south of the compound," Eric says.

"Will it take us long to walk?"

"Shouldn't."

"I want to thank you, but I don't know how."

"Thank me for what?" he splutters.

_Oops_, I think, _I surprised him_.

"Getting involved last night. Hitting those men when I couldn't. Saving my life."

"Four's the one who pulled you back over."

"You think he could have done that with two men his size trying to stop him? Maybe eventually, but not before I fell. You both saved my life; you're just the one getting thanked first. So, thank you."

"You're welcome."

"And I don't think I'll be hanging around the chasm much anymore."

"Good."


	9. a million wheres which never may become

Az is sitting on my left and Harper is on my right. We, James, and the ten of the Dauntless born initiates left line a dark tunnel, us on one side, them on the other. We're all crouched down, sitting with our backs against the walls, watching each other. Az is asleep on my shoulder, but I don't know how she can be so calm. When we first arrived, Four opened the door at the end of the hall and called Donna, one of the Dauntless bourn into the room. We haven't heard from either of them in half an hour.

"So what do you think it is?" Harper asks aloud, and his voice cuts through the silence like a hot knife.

"What do we think what is?" one of the Dauntless girls asks. She's long legged, and dark colored, black hair, black eyes, tanned skin.

"Stage two, what do you think it is?"

"We don't know," says the girl I pulled onto the train on Choosing Day. She's tall too, but with sleek blonde hair and blue eyes. "No one's allowed to talk about it."

"But what could it be?" he asks again.

"Stop asking about it, transfer. You'll know when it's your turn," the first girl says.

"Harper," he says. "Not transfer."

"Tamsin," the first girl says, to nods her head at the other girl, "This is Alice."

"This is Olivia, and Az, and James."

"We know Olivia," Tamsin smiles. "First jumper."

"Instructor puncher," Alice chimes.

"Infant protector."

I can feel the blush on my face.

"Yeah, that's right," Alice says. "You're quite the talk amongst the younger crowd. Especially since you're from Abnegation."

"I'm not Abnegation anymore," I say.

"You're well on your way to proving that," Tamsin says. "Especially since last night."

My eyes cut into hers. It's alarming to know that the tale of what happened the night before is out. I don't want people looking at me differently, treating me like glass because others had to come to my rescue. It also leaves me with the question of who let it out: Tobias or Eric?

"What happened last night?" Harper asks, eyes brows coming together and creasing his forehead. He looks at me then back at the other girls.

"Nothing," I say coldly, "Not a damn thing."

"'s not what I heard," a Dauntless boy says. "I heard you almost got thrown over the chasm. Two guys tried killing you, and it didn't stick."

"That's enough, William," Alice says, "No need to be a dick."

"Is that true, Olivia?" Harper asks me quietly. I try to ignore him the best I can, but when Harper concentrates on you, you have to give in.

"They grabbed me out of bed," I tell him lowly, but with the way the others in the tunnel have gone still and silent, not lowly enough. "They dragged me to the chasm, and they did throw me over. I caught the rail. Four pulled me back over."

"And Eric beat the shit out of the two that grabbed you," William says.

Alice whips a knife out of the top of her boot and leaves an incision the size of my hand down William's arm. He hisses and pulls away, pulling at his shirt and trying to staunch the bleeding.

"I told you not to be a dick," she growls. "Don't make me tell you again."

"Olivia," Harper breathes. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"Because I'm fine. I've got a concussion and a disgusting headache, but nothing's broken, and I'm not dead, so I'm fine. It's nothing to talk about."

He watches me for a moment, then looks at the Dauntless born.

"What happened to the two guys?"

"Dead," Tamsin says. "Max and Eric's orders."

* * *

One by one, the others disappear. James, then Alice, then William, then Harper, and three other Dauntless born I don't know the names of. Only Az and I are left out of the transfers. The Amity girl is awake now, and aware of the fact that she missed a very interesting conversation while she was asleep. I had to promise to tell her later before she would relent. The door opens again, but Cate emerges this time, not Four.

"There's a situation in the control room, so Four's been called out. It'll be a few minutes before we can find someone to replace him."

"You can't?" Tamsin asks.

"Not trained," she says. "Takes a certain, special…someone to train the initiates in Stage Two."

"We're doomed," Az moans, falling on me and being generally over dramatic.

"Relax," Cate says. "No one's died in Stage Two in years."

"Oh, years," she groans. "That makes me feel loads better."

"Sarcasm is not a good look on you," I tell her.

"It's not a good look on anyone."

"It looks good on Four," Tamsin says, batting her eyelashes.

"Anything is a good look on Four," Cate says.

"You think he's attractive?" I ask.

"You don't?" Tamsin asks.

"No," I tell them, and both Cate and Az laugh.

* * *

It takes an hour, but finally the door behind Cate opens.

"Who's next on the list?" Eric asks, leaning in the doorway. He looks like he didn't get much sleep the night before.

"They sent _you_?" Cate asks. "Couldn't they send Carlos or Ann?"

"Carlos is on the fence for the next week; Ann is still on maternity leave. I'm the only one left. Who's next?"

He doesn't seem pleased about it.

"There isn't a list," Cate says. "Four was calling them randomly."

"Of course he was. Jack, you're next, let's go."

Jack stands from his place on the floor and follows Eric into the room.

"Jackass," Cate mutters.

* * *

I'm next. Jack doesn't come back out, none of the other initiates have either, but Eric calls me in and all I can do is take a deep breath and follow. The room is dark, and small, but warm. There's a bank of monitors on one wall, and a metal reclining chair in the center of the room; the machine beside it is pretty familiar.

_It's a simulation_, I think, _just like the Aptitude test._

"I was allergic to the Aptitude Test," I tell him.

"I know. The braniacs in Erudite whipped up a special formula just for you. It's supposed to keep your body from reacting. Sit down."

I slide into the chair. Eric picks up a needle from a table behind him; the fluid in the injector is green.

"What's it like?" I ask.

"What?"

"A simulation."

"You don't remember?"

I shake my head.

"You won't know it's a simulation." he says. "Stage Two makes you face your fears. You'll go through them one by one until you calm down, lower your breathing and heart rate. Then you'll wake up. Simple as that."

I nod briefly, and Eric reaches forward to prick the skin of my neck with the tip of the needle. It's like falling asleep.

* * *

When I open my eyes I'm still in the same room. The space is still small, still dark, and I'm still sitting on the metal chair. The computers are still on the wall, the empty syringe is still on the tray, Tobias is still sitting next to me. He's staring at me, watching me look at the room, like he knows something's wrong. He looks like he did the morning he chose to leave Abnegation, the morning he chose to leave me.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Whatever happens," he says, "I still love you."

"What?"

"Don't follow me, Olivia."

He stands from his chair and starts to move towards the door. I try to reach for him, but my arms are glue to my sides, my legs are frozen, and I just have to watch him walk away again. I feel like my lungs are dry, shriveled like the elderly factionless I've seen wandering the city, and my heart is beating so fast it's all I can hear; it makes the same noise over and over again: _don't follow me, don't follow me, don't follow me, don't follow me._ I can't breathe, and I'd bet my life that I'm crying, and no matter how hard I try I just can't control myself, I can't calm down.

_It's just a simulation_, Eric's voice repeats, _It stops when you calm down_.

But I can't because….because….

He's gone.

* * *

I open my eyes again and I'm clenching the front of Eric's shirt in my fist, gulping air like I've been starved of it. My pulse is still roaring in my ears and I can vaguely tell that Eric is speaking, but I can't, and don't care to, decipher what he's saying. I feel the bile rising in my throat at the same time as I spot the trashcan in the corner under the bank of monitors. I slide out of the metal chair and dive for it, barley making my make before I start throwing up.

I wipe my mouth on the back of my hand when I'm done, and sit back against the cool wall. Eric is watching me. I meet his eyes, and I'm a little surprised that I'm not ashamed of my fear; everyone is afraid of something, and everyone is afraid of something different. I calm myself down, take deliberately large breaths until my heartbeat recedes, ignore the taste of stomach acid in my mouth.

"You're afraid of Four?" Eric asks.

I shake my head.

"I'm afraid of him abandoning me."

"You've known him for a week," he says, and I think I can hear just a hint of disgust in his tone.

I shake my head again.

"Four is my brother."

* * *

I'm lying in my bed, staring up at the dark ceiling. Az is lying opposite me, her cold toes pressed under my ribs; Harper is sitting on the floor by my head, his head tucked between his knees. I can hear him sniffle every once in a while. Az hasn't said a word since she joined us. The room around us is dark. I don't know if James is in here with us, or if he's off somewhere in the compound.

"What was yours?" Az asks quietly.

"Abandonment," I whisper. "You?"

"They burned my mother at the stake."

"Who?"

"Don't know. What about you, Harper?"

"Falling," he says, "Off of the top of the Hub."

"God, we're all a mess," Az sighs. "Let's head to the cafeteria and eat our weight in the chocolate cake."

"I second that motion," Harper says.

When they're both on their feet, but I haven't moved, the two of them forcefully pull me to my feet. I stumble forward before catching myself. We all trudge to the cafeteria together, lumbering slowly and not caring that we're annoying the people around us. They may have done what we just did, but not today. The cafeteria is busy, but not full and when we each have a plate of cake in our hands, Harper directs us to the table where Alice, Tamsin, and another Dauntless boy are picking their own deserts apart.

"Hey," Alice says dully. "How are you guys?"

"About as good as you and your lot," Harper says honestly.

She nods.

"We have to do it again tomorrow," Tamsin says. "Do you think it'll be the same fear? Or will it be a different one?"

"Don't think about it," I say.

"I threw up," the boy says.

"Me, too," I agree.

"I don't really want this cake," Az says.

"Yeah," Tamsin says. "We figured that out already.

"We're pathetic," Alice says.

"Yeah," the boy agrees.

"Not really," I say, and the rest of the table looks at me. "I mean, not completely. This is part of the learning curve: we can't face our fears if we don't know what they are, and if we don't know what they are, then how can we expect to face them in a real situation? I don't think it's about not being afraid, I think it's about being afraid and still be able to do something about it."

"Has anyone ever told you, you think like an Erudite?" Alice asks.

"I wish they'd stop."

* * *

We're all sitting in the same tunnel again the next day, except this time everyone is silent and still. One by one our numbers dwindle, until it's my turn. It's the same room, the same darkness, the same chair. Except this time both Eric and my brother are in the room. I look at them both, confused, because only Eric was needed last time.

"Family can't test family," my brother says. "It wasn't a problem yesterday because I was called away."

"Oh."

"Are you okay with this?" he asks.

"Why wouldn't I be?" I ask weakly. "I've always wanted to show every Tom, Dick, and Harry my deepest, darkest, most irrational fears. It'll be a cake walk."

"You still get sarcastic when you're scared."

"You're still a grump in the morning."

"You really should concentrate on overcoming your fears."

"You really should concentrate on not being an asshole."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Yeah," I swallow. "I know."

He glances at Eric, who hasn't said a word, and walks out the back door. I walk towards the chair, and Eric uncaps the needle.

"Is it always the same fear?" I ask.

"No."

"Great."

* * *

I'm in my grey kitchen in my grey Abnegation house, washing the grey dishes with grey scented soap. My clothes are grey, my hair is grey, my life is grey. I put the clean dishes to rinse and set them in the drying rack. I hear the door fly open and hit the opposite wall; the plate in my hands crashes to the floor and shatters. I know what's coming.

My father storms into the kitchen. I don't know why he's angry, but the shards of ceramic scattered on the floor only set more kindle to the flame. I scamper to the broom closet, and reach for the broom and dustpan, but my father catches me by the wrist. He yanks me back, and I hear the bones in my hand pop, and he throws me to the floor. I hit my head. I sit up, dizzy.

He's yelling, but I can't understand him, can't answer when he shouts a question. He picks up a drying glass and flings it at me. It misses, hit the floor, shatters. A piece hits me in the face, glances across, but still splits skin. He storms forward, still yelling, buzzing in my ear like a fly rapidly beating its wings. He grabs the front of my dress, hauls me up, punches me once in the stomach. I can't breathe.

* * *

When I open my eyes, one of my hands is in Eric's shirt again, and the other is held in one of his own; his other hand is holding my shoulder down. I let go quickly, draw away like being burned, but he pulls back more slowly, sits back down, leans in his seat. I don't feel the need to vomit this time, but I'm so, so angry with myself. When I chose Dauntless and left Abnegation behind, I swore I'd never be afraid of my father again. He has no power over me here, or anywhere, but it doesn't seem that my mind has quite caught on.

"What happened?" I ask.

"You punched me in the eye," he says.

"Sorry."

"Don't be," he says, and I look up at him. "You've convinced your body to fight your fears, now you just have to convince your mind. It's half the battle."

"Right. Okay. Good talk."

I slide off of the metal chair, and I have to support myself for just a moment before my knees start to work again. I shake the lingering feelings of phantom fingers grabbing me, brush off the bruise I know isn't under my shirt.

"How long did it take you?" I ask. "How long did it take you to work through the simulation?"

"Twelve days," he says. "Four did it in seven."

"He's always been an overachiever," I say. "Can't help himself."

He stands and follows me to the back door. My brother is waiting for us on the other side; he's been chewing on his fingernails if the irritated skin is to go by. He looks me over, checks for what I don't know because it isn't like I would carry injury from a situation that took place in my own head, then looks Eric over like the other man would have done something other than administer the simulation.

"You okay?" he asks.

"Yeah. Better than yesterday."

"Showoff," he huffs, and throws an arm over my shoulder. "I've got to finish with the others."

"I'll see you at dinner."

"See you."

He passes Eric and closes the door behind him.

"Thanks," I tell him.

"What for?"

"The simulation. You're not as big of a jerk as everyone says."

"Who says I'm a jerk?"

"I can't say," I turn away and head towards the Pit. "But I think they're wrong."


	10. leaving to shadowy silence and dismay

Dinner that night is more talkative than the day before. My brother sits with us, if front of me and beside Harper, and steals food off of my tray when he thinks I'm not looking. None of us are in good moods, but we aren't quite as shell shocked as we were; Alice and Tamsin even sit with us, though they give Four funny looks when he slides his bowl of banana pudding onto my tray. I retaliate by letting him have my portion of chocolate cake.

"I have decided," Az says to the table, setting her fork on her tray, "that I want another tattoo."

"It's been two days," I tell her. "And your first one is infected."

"Irritated," she says. "Not infected. I want another one."

"What do you want?" Alice asks.

"I have no idea. Who else has got one?"

Alice, Tamsin, and Az all raise their hands.

"You have one," Az says, pointing at Four. "What is it?"

"It's a big fat sign that reads 'fuck off'."

"Never mind," she says, and I kick my brother under table.

"Stop kicking me," he hisses.

"Then stop being an asshole," I hiss back. I like that my brother and I no longer have to think about each other's feelings before we say anything. I like being able to speak my mind without someone fussing at me for being selfish; I can be as selfish as I want now.

"I'd stop being an asshole if you'd stop kicking me."

"Liar. You'd keep pushing until I punched you again."

"You punch like a girl," he sneers.

"Of course I do," I say smiling. "Seemed pretty effective to me."

He rolls his eyes and dumps a piece of chocolate cake in my pudding.

* * *

I feel like I can't breathe. I try to open my mouth, bring the air back into my lungs, something, but I just can't. It's dark, and hot, and when I feel a hand grab my wrist as I flail, I realize this isn't a dream. The hand over my face moves and I can finally breathe through my nose, but I can't make a sound, can't call for help, if any would even come. I don't know who's here with me, but unless they have more than two hands, there are at least two of them.

It starts like a quiet whisper in my ear, and grows louder like an enormous crowd cheering, more and more and more people chanting. I don't realize where we're headed until one of the men's feet steps on metal grating, and I hear it rock and sway under his weight. We're headed for the chasm.

_No one will think it's murder_, a voice in my head whispers, _Eric has caught you out here twice. He'll just think you really were suicidal, that you just went ahead and jumped. And these two will get away with it. No one will care about the death of another initiate, especially a transfer._

I scurry away, and yank whatever is in my mouth out, intending to be able to bit whatever comes at me next. I put my back to the tunnel wall and fling my hair out of my face. The man stalking in my direction is bigger than I thought he was, and when his nose crinkles, I know who it is. This is the same man and his friend that pushed me on the stairs when I had Adele with me.

The two men that threw me over scramble away from the edge until one of them realizes that I haven't fallen into the water. The friend growls and stalks towards me and begins to pry my fingers from the bar. I do what I can to stop him, but it's honestly not much. I'm too busy watching my fingers slip from the bar, too worried thinking about what's going to happen next, and I don't see someone punch the other one in the face. The one prying my fingers from their hold is shoved away, and two hands are grabbing my arms and pulling me up.

"I'm going to take her to the infirmary. You going to handle them?"

"Yeah," he says darkly. "I'll handle them."

His voice sends a cold spark down my spine.

* * *

I come out of the simulation hazy; the room is swimming, and my pulse is still racing, but Eric is a stationary figure at my side. I'm not nauseous, even though I know that the two men that threw me over are dead, that Eric is probably the one who killed them, and it doesn't bother me as much as I thought it would.

"I'm not sorry they're dead," I tell him in the quiet of the room. The metal chair has warmed to my body temperature, and I flex my fingers over the arm rests to keep from reaching out, reaching for something.

"Who told you they were dead?" he asks.

"Some of the other initiates," I tell him. "They heard about what happened. Don't know how."

"Goddamn gossips," he hisses. "You weren't supposed to know."

"Why?" I ask. "Did you think I would ask for mercy upon them? Ask for the minimum punishment?"

"It doesn't matter. It was Max's decision."

"I wouldn't have. They tried to kill me; you and my brother are the only reason that didn't happen. I can't say I'm glad they're dead, or that I would have returned the favor to them, but I'm not sorry for it."

"I can't say any of us are," he says.

* * *

The room I share with the other transfers is empty when I walk in. I don't know where the others are. I crouch down by the bottom of the mattress and wiggle my hand between the fabric and the bedframe. The spine of the book I snuck into the compound of Choosing Day is stiff from a week and a half's worth of stillness, but in no worse condition that when I arrived. The cover is green, like the grass at the edge of the fence, and blank of words. There is no title, and no accredited author; I don't even know if my mother knew who the book was written by. The pages are yellowing with age, frayed around the edges, but still secure in their binding; I imagine that the black ink on each page is as dark and purposeful as the day it was printed. This is my favorite book.

I crawl into my bed, prop my pillow against the wall, and pull the sheets over my legs.

* * *

The next four days repeat the same cycle: simulation, lunch, free time, dinner, sleep. I see Marcus twice more in training, along with being run over by a train, and being tossed over the chasm. I don't see my brother in the simulation again. Eric is there each day, living through the fears in my head and walking me through my after thoughts. He's never unkind about it, though he isn't very pleasant either. Eric is a quiet place in the tumulus sea that is training; he will not sugar coat something, nor will he outright lie.

On the morning of our first day off after Stage Two, I return to the training room after being tugged around by Az after breakfast to find several of the other initiates crowed around the chalkboard. Harper is standing in the middle of them, head bent low as he whispers to Alice.

"Harper," Az says quietly, tapping him on the shoulder. "What's going on?"

"Change in ranks," Alice says.

"I thought no one else was getting cut until after stage three!"

"Eric said it was a progress report," Harper says. "I don't think anyone's being cut."

Az pushes by them so she can stand in front of the board; I follow her. Az has been moved to third on the list.

My name is first.

* * *

"Is it really so surprising?" Fanny asks as I bounce Adele on my hip.

The initiates have the next seven days off to relax and recuperate before Stage Three begins. I'm spending more time with the infants and Fanny than I am with the other initiates.

"Sort of," I say. "I don't really think I'm all that good at facing my fears."

"It's not about how good you are at facing your fears. It's about how much better you are at facing your fears than everyone else. Besides, just because you're in first place now, doesn't mean you will be at the end of stage three."

"You always make me feel better, Fanny," I say dryly. "Like a snake bite, or a burn."

"I do my best."

* * *

"I don't know what to do with myself," I say as Az throws herself down on my bed. It's our second night off and neither of us have the slightest inclination of how to keep ourselves occupied. "I'm not bored, but…"

"But we don't have anything to do either."

"Right. Where's Harper? I haven't seen him since yesterday."

"Me either. Who knows what he's gotten into?"

"We could go down to the commissary and have an early dinner," I suggest.

"We could throw you off the chasm and see if you live again," she counters.

"Touché."

"We could always jump the train lines?"

"Can't leave the territory without a Dauntless member."

"We'll take your brother."

"He's working a double shift in the technology labs."

"Cate?"

"I don't know what her other job is, but every time I've seen her not training us she's been drunk. Probably not a good idea to take her rail jumping if she is."

"We could always take Eric."

I push myself up onto my elbows so I can see her face.

"You don't like Eric," I tell her. "He scares the hell out of you."

"You like him," she says without looking at me. "He doesn't scare you."

"Are you kidding me? Every time I open my mouth I'm afraid he'll take my head off."

"So he's not the one who went rail jumping with you the day after those two other Dauntless attacked you?"

"How do you know about that?"

"So it was him."

"I needed to clear my head," I say, sitting up fully so she has to look at me. "I didn't want to be around my brother and I didn't want anyone else to know. He was the only choice."

"And he agreed," she says. "Sounds like he likes you too."

* * *

Az and I find Harper in the Pit. He, Tamsin, and Alice are all sitting at a small table in a dark corner, passing around a bottle that smells like alcohol even though it's nowhere near my nose. None of them are as drunk as they could be, I suppose, but they aren't particularly sober either. Harper makes room for Az to sit in his chair and leaves the last seat for me. He hands Az the bottle and she takes a delicate sip, coughing at the sting running down her throat.

"Your turn," she says, waving the bottle in my direction.

Alcohol isn't something I've ever wanted to experience. The Abnegation don't drink, consider it poisoning others through your acts, but it was always in my house. It and Marcus, well, it was never pretty.

"Thanks."

I take the bottle from her and tip it up, covering the spout with my finger so all I get is the salty taste of sweat from my hands and the sear of a few drops on my tongue.

"Check it out," Alice says. "Abnegation knows how to loosen up."

"Pretty sure," Harper pauses, "pretty sure she's not Abnegation."

"Definitely not Abnegation," Tamsin agrees.

"To giving up where we're from," Az says, hoisting the bottle in the air, "and finding somewhere new."

We all pretend to clink imaginary glasses together and drink. The bottle gets passed around a few more times, but I only take enough to taste.

* * *

I leave the four of them in the Pit once they're all drunk enough for the conversation to slide into rather salacious territory and Alice starts talking about my brother. I shudder at the thought of a few things she'd mentioned before I was too far away to hear. There's nothing I want to hear less.

I decide to make my way up, out of the pit and into the large glass walled room above. The stairs up are rickety and creak under my feet. The glass ceiling turns into the floor and my first step onto it is a bit nerve wrecking; I can see several stories below me to the roughly carved floor of the Pit and I have to convince myself that my next step won't be to my death. The sun has set outside, but through the glass walls and dim lighting I can see the stars and the moon in the sky and the abandoned buildings crumbling around the territory. I never would have noticed Dauntless Headquarters here if I had just been passing by.

There are clusters of more Dauntless gathered on the glass floor. Some are just talking, but others seem to be taking part in one activity or another: fighting with blunted staffs, keeping a ball away from another team, spontaneous foot races. A dull shout echoes through the open space and when I look up two men are balanced on a tight rope; another man stands at one end of the rope, shaking it with his foot and laughing when the other two struggle for balance.

I stuff my hands in my pockets and wander around the edge of the room until I meet a tunnel that leads somewhere else. I turn down it, content to wander and stretch my legs. There are several door along the way, and, by the labels next to the door frames, I seem to have wandered into the heart of Dauntless control. As I reach the half-way point down the hall, a door swings open and a man and a woman exit, nearly knocking me off my feet, though they take no notice and continue on their way. Before the door closes, I glimpse the back of a familiar dark head.

After the two Dauntless have walked far enough away, and I'm sure no one else is coming down the hall, I crack open the door and slip inside. The wall opposite the door is full of monitors, and each of the displays flickers between pictures. It isn't until one of the larger screens displays a shot of the Pit that I recognize that the footage must be from security cameras.

"You're not supposed to be in here," my brother says.

"I figured," I say, dropping down three steps so we're on the same level. "So this is what you do, huh?"

"I'm pretty much a glorified security guard," he admits. "But I like it. It's quiet."

"I think I got enough quiet in Abnegation," I tell him.

"Our lives were anything but quiet."

I sit down on the arm of his chair and he wraps his arm around my waist. It's been a long time since I've been able to just sit with my brother.

"I used to feel like I was living in a graveyard," I whisper. "It was always so quiet, even when he was home. I felt like everything was going to shatter if I said a word. Everyone knew what was going on, but no one would say anything. Even me. I didn't say anything and I should have."

"I didn't say anything either," he whispers back, "and I left you there with him."

"I wanted you to go," I tell him. "I wanted you out of there so badly I couldn't take it."

"Big, brave Olivia," he laughs/sobs. "Always looking out for others."

* * *

When my brother's shift in the control room is over, we leave together, his arm around my shoulders and mine around his waist. He takes us through a different set of tunnels and not back through the glass room or the Pit. We don't talk about much, and we avoid the subject of training until he asks about my simulations.

"I've seen Marcus a few times," I admit. "I've been hit by a train once, and thrown over the edge and into the chasm three times."

"Marcus is in mine, too," he tells me.

I tighten my arm around his waist.

"What about Eric?" he asks slowly.

"What _about_ Eric?"

"He's not being nasty? He's not really known for his sweet disposition."

"Eric is," I pause to think, "well, he's a dick, but he doesn't sugar coat anything and he doesn't mock me for my fears, so he hasn't been too big of a dick."

"That's surprising. He's usually a really, really big dick."

* * *

Tobias leaves me in the commissary and heads for his room, intent on a full ten hours of sleep before his next shift in the control room. It's just after the busiest meal time, so most of the food available has been picked at, but I manage to scrape together two apples and a bunch of grapes. None of the initiates are within sight, so I pick an empty table in the corner away from the left over hustle and bustle and take a seat. I crunch on the apples slowly, taking my time because it's not like I have anywhere else to be. After a few moments of just drowning in the white noise of the room, I pluck all of my grapes from their stems and begin to arrange them in shapes.

"Didn't anyone teach you not to play with your food?"

I look up, startled. Eric is standing on the other side of my table, hand in one pocket and the other holding an apple of his own.

"Sure," I say. "But I don't see my father around, do you?"

"No, I don't."

I duck my head again and rearrange my fruit again.

"So," he says, sinking into the seat across from mine, "have an idea of whether or not you'll pass initiation yet?"

"Depends," I say, shaping my grapes into an arrow and eating one, "on whether those scores are real, or if this is some kind of psych out. Put the losers in the top and the winners in the bottom. Either way, someone's likely to slip, out of confidence or desperation, one."

"Again: Erudite."

"I still wish people would stop telling me that."

"Then stop thinking out loud."

"I wasn't thinking out loud. You asked me a question, and I answered it."

"A 'yes' or 'no' would have sufficed."

I flick a grape at him. He snags it from the table and pops it into his mouth.

"What's stage three?" I ask.

"Can't tell you that yet. Wouldn't be fair."

"Since when do you care what's fair or not?" I ask. "It wasn't fair when the first four initiates were cut, and it won't be fair when the rest are. It isn't fair that we have to face our worst fears, though I do recognize the practicality of it. It isn't fair that two men think they can kill an initiate and get away with it. Life isn't fair. If it was, I would have had a gun in my hand and left a bullet in Marcus's head on Visiting Day."

I'm surprisingly calm. Nothing I've said isn't true, but none of those thoughts spark my anger like they usually do. My heart isn't racing, and my breath isn't uneven. I look up at Eric and find him watching me, slowly turning the stem on his apple until it breaks off.

"You're right," he says lowly. "I don't care what's fair and what's not. I couldn't give a damn if we picked initiates at random so long as they were good at what we told them to do. But you," he looks me in the eye, "I want to see if you can make it. I want to see if you'll keep standing or if you'll crumple like a wet paper bag. Every time I think you're going to give in, you don't, you push back, you win. I want to know if you're brave, or if you're just acting like it."

I stand from the table, chair sliding across the floor almost noiselessly. He watches me rise, doesn't look away from my face.

"I don't have an answer for you," I tell him, "because I don't think I know either."


End file.
